


The Space Between

by alltheselights



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Louis, Famous Harry, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Insomnia, Knotting, M/M, Non-Famous Louis Tomlinson, Omega Louis, Sexism, Singer Harry Styles, Student Louis Tomlinson, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23142106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltheselights/pseuds/alltheselights
Summary: Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 302
Kudos: 2108
Collections: Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2019





	The Space Between

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've posted in almost three years. There were moments where I thought I wouldn't be able to finish this one, particularly in the last few months when I experienced a barrage of medical tests, a cancer scare, and a surgery, but I did it! I was about three months late and a dollar short, but I still did it.
> 
> To anyone who bothers to give this fic a chance, thank you for reading and thank you for sticking by me through a million broken promises about when my next fic would be out. I appreciate you more than you could ever realize.
> 
>  **Additional Warning:** If you suffer from insomnia and are sensitive to how the topic is discussed, please read this fic with caution.
> 
>  **Prompt 139:** ABO AU Harry is an Alpha who has trouble sleeping at night, so he hires an Omega, Louis, from a credited service that provides insomniac relief based on the fact that Omegas and Alphas thrive the most when they are together.

“Um, Harry?” a voice asks. It startles Harry where he’s sitting on the sofa with his eyes drooping, legs crossed. There’s a guitar lying next to him, and Harry doesn’t even remember putting it down.

It takes him a moment to respond, his senses resetting slowly as he wakes himself up.

“Sorry, man,” Harry says, voice gruff. “What were you saying?”

The studio fills in around him as his vision clears. The group of guitars and a single bass leaning against the wall by the door, Harry’s bag and coat draped over an empty chair, the shag rug that’s been subject to more spills than Harry would care to admit.

There aren’t many people here, of course. Just Jeff, Harry’s manager, Kid, the producer Jeff looped in for Harry’s sophomore album, and Mitch, Harry’s guitarist and one of his favorite co-writers. Harry normally enjoys to have a bigger group around when he’s writing, but lately, he’s been struggling to get the creative juices flowing and he didn’t want to drag the whole crew of producers and co-writers into the studio to watch him struggle.

The studio is messy and cluttered after so many long nights and early mornings spent here, but that’s the way Harry likes it. It’s why he bought this space half a year ago, just as soon as the last big checks from his first album and tour were in, and turned it into a cramped and dingy studio.

It’s perfect.

“We asked if you liked that line better in the first verse or the second,” Kid says, speaking slowly enough that Harry feels offended. His voice is a mixture of annoyance and confusion, but Harry’s been getting a lot of those looks lately.

Harry can barely even remember what line they were talking about before he started drifting. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. It’s time to go home.

“Can we continue this conversation tomorrow?” Harry asks, glancing between Mitch and Kid while carefully avoiding meeting Jeff’s eyes. Kid offers an audible sigh, and Harry grits his teeth to keep from snapping.

This is why he rarely works with other alphas. It’s his music and his career, but every time another alpha comes in the room for a studio session, suddenly they think they’re the boss.

They’re not the fucking boss. Harry is.

“Let’s continue this conversation tomorrow,” Harry says. It’s a statement instead of a question this time. He may be too exhausted to write music, but he’ll never be exhausted enough to take shit from a man that thinks he can out-alpha Harry in his own damn studio. “I have a lot to do and I feel like this session isn’t productive. If you don’t like it, Kid, feel free to stay home.”

Harry’s voice is rough and gravelly and there’s an undercurrent of alpha aggression that Harry rarely lets slip, always trying to maintain a façade of civility, but he’s really not in the mood.

Harry doesn’t bother waiting for a response, though he can sense the irritation radiating off of Kid. He can tell that the two betas in the room have stiffened and are both sitting cautiously, trying not to further upset the balance. Betas may not be able to literally smell the tension, but they sure as hell can feel it.

Confident that Jeff is concerned enough about Harry’s current mood that he won’t try to protest, Harry takes the opportunity for what it is. He gets up and places his guitar in its usual spot leaning against the wall, gathers his coat and bag, and makes way for the door.

“See you tomorrow at 10,” Harry says gruffly. “Don’t forget to lock up.”

He doesn’t stick around long enough to hear their goodbyes.

It’s cold and dark outside, the sun having set within the last hour or so, and there isn’t a soul in sight as Harry makes his way over to his car. This is a quieter part of Hampstead, little to see or do, and that works well for Harry. It not only means that the rental price of his studio space isn’t too high, but it also means that he rarely runs into anybody who recognizes him.

Harry may not be on Ed Sheeran’s level of fame yet, but in the last year and a half, he’s become well known enough in the UK that it’s not unusual for him to be stopped by omegas, betas, and even the occasional alpha on the street, begging him for an autograph and a selfie. Girls, boys, men, women—Harry’s generally happy to oblige them all, but lately, he’s been enjoying the relative anonymity he gets from being in Hampstead.

Truth be told, Harry just doesn’t have the energy to interact with people.

Harry clicks the button on his keys to unlock his car door and drags himself inside, huffing out a sigh as he drops his bag into the empty passenger seat. For a moment he just sits there, bloodshot eyes staring unseeingly out the windshield, but he quickly shakes himself out of it once more. He rubs his face in his hands, grinding the heel of his palm into his eyes to try to wake himself up enough that he can make it home in one piece.

He’s just working up the energy to start driving when his phone pings from his pocket.

“What do you want?” Harry says out loud, knowing who the text will be from without having to check.

**_We need to talk_ **

The text from his manager lights up the screen. Fucking Jeff.

Harry knows a conversation is coming sometime soon, but he can’t think about that right now. Not when he’s so tired that his brain feels like it’s moving in slow motion, not when his limbs are so heavy that it feels like he can barely move, and certainly not when his eyes are so close to shutting that he feels like a short drive home is more of a risk than a normal part of his routine.

Harry’s used to feeling like this by now, of course. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. He supposes that on some level, the human body can never really adjust to running on so many sleepless nights.

Jeff is probably right. They should talk at some point. Harry may be a stubborn bastard, but he also fully realizes that if his lifestyle is unsustainable right now, it’s going to be downright impossible to maintain by the time he heads into promo season, let alone into a full-fledged tour.

That’s a concern for another day, however. At the moment, all Harry has the energy to focus on is driving himself home, making himself a cuppa, and trying to fall asleep.

Harry sighs tiredly and turns the keys in the ignition, listening as his car comes to life.

Harry wishes he remembered how to do the same.

\--

Harry doesn’t fall asleep again that night.

\--

The high of being onstage is like no other.

Harry’s done plenty of mushrooms (only when he’s writing) and weed (only when he’s with friends), and has even tried cocaine and LSD (only at festivals and friends’ parties), but nothing will ever get close to the out-of-body experience that Harry has while he’s performing. When he gets the opportunity to sing his heart out and listen to the crowd scream his own words back to him, he’s not sure how he could have ever done anything else but this.

These shows in London aren’t the norm for any artist as famous as Harry. At least, not outside a regular tour. Most artists follow the typical routine where they work on their album, promote their album, and then go on tour. Harry’s label expected it to be that way for him too, and for a while, that was Harry’s plan.

Then several months ago, Harry was just starting to write his second album when a friend of his asked him for a favor. Harry’s known Johnny since they were kids, and Harry remembered his mum mentioning that she had run into Johnny’s mum at the market a few times and that he’d joined a band, but Harry didn’t think much of it until Johnny texted him and suggested he attend one of their gigs.

Harry had been bored and restless, just starting to deal with the current bout of insomnia, so he decided on a whim to kill some time and attend the gig. And when Johnny asked him to join them onstage for a song, he was joking and probably never expected that Harry would actually do it, but Harry decided to throw him for a loop and went right up there to perform a random cover with him.

Harry’s an alpha, after all. He’s not afraid of a challenge and he’s not afraid of attention, so the thunderous roar of excitement from the crowd when he got up there was all he needed.

That was when Harry decided to start playing some small local shows while he worked on his album. The first few were absolute chaos, as fans were overwhelmed by the prospect of seeing the newly famous Mr. Harry Styles in such a small venue, especially outside of a normal promo season.

Admittedly, Harry feels bad about the omegas that collapsed in the front row during the first few shows, and those safety concerns were probably something he and his team should have foreseen. Harry could smell that something was off from when he started singing, but it was hard to tell what in a room full of competing scents.

Thankfully, much of the insanity has calmed down since then. The fans have largely adjusted to Harry doing this now, so while the shows are still crazy and there tend to always be more fans waiting outside than can fit in the venue, which only offers day-of tickets for the gigs at a very low price, he worries less about the potential for medical emergencies.

Now, Harry uses these shows partly as stress release, partly as a way to stay in the groove of performing and interacting with fans, and partly as a way to treat his fans as a sounding board for some of his newest ideas. Harry has been known to sometimes play bits and pieces of new songs that he’s feeling unsure about in order to gauge the reactions of the crowd, and every time he does, the clips go viral on Twitter and YouTube.

Will the fans kill him when he doesn’t end up putting most of those bits and pieces on his second album?

Definitely, but that’s half the fun of it.

Tonight’s show is much like every other. Harry arrives at the venue feeling exhausted, only having managed a couple of hours of sleep the night before, but the excitement of the impending show helps pep him up in no time.

Harry has a beer backstage, spends some time making fun of Mitch and his drummer Sarah, the two individuals who make up the most nauseating beta/omega couple that Harry’s ever seen in his life, and even plays a bit a FIFA. His set is supposed to start at 7:30PM and the opener, an omega singer-songwriter that Harry met at a bar one night and gave his number to for this very purpose, has already begun her short set.

Harry can hear her out there performing to an excited crowd as he turns his attention to his shirt and does up the—

“For fuck’s sake, I can hear the gush of slick from here. Pretty sure that doesn’t count as buttoning a shirt,” Mitch mutters, rolling his eyes and only cracking a smile when he hears Sarah’s giggle.

“It’s buttoned halfway,” Harry protests, gesturing toward the four buttons that he’s bothered to connect. Sarah just giggles some more and Mitch refocuses his attention on her immediately, so Harry finishes getting dressed without being bothered again.

—and then, he’s ready to perform.

Jeff’s here too, has been in the corner on the phone for the past hour or so, arguing with the label about something as usual, but he waves Harry over just before he’s about to head onstage.

Harry obliges and approaches him, the pre-performance jitters really starting to kick in, before waiting expectantly.

“One sec, Rob,” Jeff says before pulling his phone down and pressing it against his chest.

“You okay?” He asks.

Part of Harry wants to snap at the question, but Harry’s allowed that side of himself to rear its ugly head far too often lately. He recognizes, at least very deep down inside, that Jeff doesn’t deserve the abuse. Harry knows his manager is only trying to look out for him, but when Harry’s spending most of his nights trying to sleep and most of his days trying to stay awake, it becomes increasingly difficult to deal with the endless third degree from the beta in front of him.

“Never better,” Harry says dismissively, giving Jeff a big dimpled smile. “Just excited to get out there.”

Jeff takes the hint to shut up for what it is.

“Alright,” he says carefully, and Harry can tell he doesn’t believe him, but it doesn’t really matter either way.

Harry has a performance to do.

\--

Harry leaves the stage drenched in sweat just an hour and a half later. He’s barely stepped out of the spotlights before the exhaustion overtakes his body, the adrenaline fading as quickly as the crowd rushing out of the building to beat traffic. Harry stumbles down a step, not paying attention as he mops the dampness off his forehead with a towel.

He can hear his band following him down the stairs and then down the hallway after that. Mitch and Sarah are laughing together, caught up in their usual love fest, and Adam is muttering about needing to call his lovely omega wife because the show ran long and he won’t be home until after she’s asleep.

Harry’s by himself, of course, as he always is, and that’s how he likes it. Sometimes it gets tiring to always be surrounded by loved up couples, but it’s something Harry’s gotten used to since he began this career and found himself a team and a band filled with people who all seem to be in disgustingly secure relationships.

Harry enjoys hooking up with omegas and the occasional beta, though he always leaves the latter interactions unsatisfied, but he’s not looking for something more. At this rate, he’s not sure if he ever will be.

 _“There’s nothing the world loves more than a bachelor alpha rockstar,”_ Harry remembers hearing from Rob Stringer, the head of his record label, on the night that they first met in a small and dirty venue much like the one Harry performed at tonight.

Harry’s never forgotten those words, and in his experience, he’s found that Rob is right. His ears are still ringing from the screams of the crowd, mainly made up of omegas and betas who’ve been lusting for Harry’s knot since they realized he existed, and the image of their sweaty, thrilled faces while he performs adds another snapshot to his memory, one like the hundreds that have been added before.

This is Harry’s life, and he loves it. It’s everything he could’ve ever hoped for. Mostly, anyway.

“Good show, babe,” Sarah says when she and Mitch catch up to him in the dressing room. “You smashed it!”

She stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and then laughs when she lowers herself down and sees the jealous look on Mitch’s face. Harry can’t help but laugh too. Mitch is secure in his relationship and he lacks the aggression that is typically found more in alphas, but he’s still a man watching his girlfriend kiss the cheek of another man.

“Thanks,” Harry says, pulling Sarah into a hug and yanking Mitch in by one of his lapels until they’ve settled into an uncomfortable group hug. It’s really just uncomfortable because of the grumpy look Mitch is sporting, but Harry doesn’t care. He can feel the tiredness settling back into his bones as his heart rate lowers to its usual pace, but he still knows it was still a great night and a great show.

“I’m gonna head out,” Harry announces to the room, which currently contains just his bandmates and Jeff. It’s clear that Jeff has been on the phone again rather than taking the time to enjoy his client’s incredible performance.

Harry wanders around the room, collecting his belongings and stuffing them into the duffel bag he had swung over his shoulder when he arrived several hours ago. He probably misses something here or there, but he knows his bandmates, manager, or the people cleaning up the backstage area at the venue will grab it for him or let him know. Maybe if the cleaners are omegas, they can keep any sweaty socks they find as souvenirs.

It only takes a couple of minutes for him to gather what he needs and walk toward the door, but he takes the opportunity to turn back and wave at the people still milling about the room, none of them in a rush to leave like he is.

“Great show, guys. Couldn’t do it without you!” Harry says, offering them a salute. “Have a great night!”

“Enjoy your omega orgy or whatever it is you do after shows,” Sarah laughs as she snuggles back into Mitch on the sofa.

Harry smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You know me,” he winks.

And with that, he closes the door behind him.

He takes a moment to center himself behind the door, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy. It’s the lack of sleep along with the drop in adrenaline, probably, and it doesn’t help that he’s moved from bright lights into the pitch darkness of the hallway. Harry steadies himself quickly, still intent on arriving home as early as he can and getting a full night’s rest. It’s a pathetic dream, especially for an alpha, but it’s all he can think of right now.

Harry’s car is parked beside Jeff’s in the lot behind the venue, and Harry notes how crookedly Jeff pulled into the parking space, fully prepared to use that as ammunition in the future. Harry may not have many talents outside of his chosen career path, but he’s a damn good driver, and there are no omegas, no betas, and very few alphas that can relate.

He dumps his duffel in the back seat and hums Sign of the Times when as he sits down in the driver’s seat, the tune still fresh after the encore. When he pulls out of the spot and onto the still busy London street, the radio is turned down and he’s still humming along to the melody in his head.

It doesn’t take Harry long to escape the traffic outside the venue because he’s headed in the opposite direction of most of the cars, still planning to drive straight home. Soon enough, his car is passing through quiet streets with fewer distractions and less of a need for his full attention to be on the road.

He can feel his eyelids drooping, but there are just a few more minutes to go before he’ll pull up to the gate outside his home, punch in the code so the gate opens, and park his car by his front door. He can make it.

Just a few more minutes, but Harry’s eyes drift closed again, and as they always say, it only takes a second.

There’s a loud crash and then darkness.

\--

Harry only passes out for a few seconds, and when he returns to consciousness, he can’t be sure whether he just fell asleep or was actually knocked out by the force of the crash. There’s pain radiating from his forehead, and when Harry touches there, his hand comes back reddened from his own blood. Guess it’s the latter then.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He knows he’s not seriously injured, but he has no clue what state his car is in, and it doesn’t really make a damn difference either way. He’s Harry fucking Styles and he just crashed his car into a brick wall on a straight road in London. This is humiliating.

“Hey,” a man calls out, and his voice sounds distant through the window, but Harry quickly realizes that he’s actually standing right beside Harry’s car. Harry didn’t even notice the man approaching, too caught up in taking in what just happened, but the man has a leash wrapped around his hand. At the end of said leash is a small terrier. “You alright?”

Harry groans, finally making an attempt to move his limbs. Nothing really hurts except his forehead, probably because his face hit the steering wheel when he crashed, so he knows he’s fine beyond maybe a concussion. He’s had worse.

It takes Harry a minute to work up the energy, but he stumbles out of the car eventually.

“I’m fine,” he says, waving off the beta man’s concerns. “Thank you for checking though. I appreciate it.”

Harry reaches out to shake his hand just to be polite. Hopefully the man will remember the gesture when he’s given the opportunity to sell this story to the tabloids.

They stand in silence for a while, both just watching the terrier sniff around for a good spot to do her business, and Harry’s not exactly sure what either of them are waiting for until he hears the sirens in the distance.

“I called the police,” the man says by way of explanation, and Harry can tell that the sometime in the last few minutes, the man has figured out who he is. His eyes are wide. “Your car doesn’t look very damaged though.”

Harry ignores the man’s gaze and takes a few steps toward the front of his car, checking the damage out for himself. The beta is right—there’s a significant dent in the front bumper and some scratches too, but it’s nothing a day at the shop won’t fix. The wall looks untouched, so Harry won’t have to worry about paying for that.

It’s only another 30 seconds before two police cars pull up to the scene, their lights blinding Harry and setting the small terrier off on a barking spree. Harry sighs and leans back against his car, and while the officers climb out of their vehicles, he takes the opportunity to reach into his pocket and pull out his iPhone.

_**So something happened** _

Every instinct inside Harry is telling him to not text Jeff, but he knows this incident is likely to be in the papers by the time he wakes up. If Harry’s correct about that, he knows the assumption from the shitty tabloid journalists and the general public will be that Harry was drunk or high behind the wheel, and while it can be easily disproved with a sobriety test, it’s not like the British tabloids have ever given a fuck about facts.

It also seems likely that he’ll be forced to go get checked out for a potential concussion, and considering how tired Harry is already, he’ll be a dead man walking by the time that’s finished.

Harry is alpha enough to realize that Jeff needs to be aware of the situation.

_**What??!** _

Jeff responds just as the police are walking up to Harry, and Harry takes a moment to greet them politely and shake their hands. He hopes he’s at least giving the impression of being sober, even as the exhaustion and throbbing of his head are making it difficult for him to stand steadily. He glances down at the phone in his hand while the officers greet the beta with the dog, and though he knows he’s at risk of pissing off the police officers who are here to talk to him about his accident, he fires off a quick text response to Jeff anyway.

_**Let’s just say you're not going to like it** _

\--

As a manager, Jeff is competent at the best of times and annoying as hell at the worst of times. _Actually,_ Harry amends in his own mind, Jeff is also annoying as hell at the best of times. Still, Harry gives him credit for the fact that he generally knows when to push and more importantly, when to pull back.

He knows it probably took Jeff a lot of restraint to avoid lecturing Harry in the waiting room or while they were waiting for Harry to be seen by the doctor, and Harry can respect him for that. There’s no way he’s going to be able to escape the lecture forever though.

“It’s time for us to have a conversation,” Jeff says, and Harry throws himself back onto the sofa with all the grace of a baby giraffe, which is to say, none at all. He winces at the pain in his head and decides it’s time for the Paracetamol.

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” Harry says grumpily.

Jeff slides a glass of water across the coffee table toward Harry so he can take his pills and then settles down on the sofa next to him, a respectable distance between them. Jeff never was the cuddly type.

“You fell asleep behind the wheel and got into an accident,” Jeff starts, and Harry sighs. “You could’ve seriously hurt yourself, you could’ve died, you could’ve seriously hurt or killed someone else. This has gone too far. I’ve tried not to push it because I get that it’s like, a pride thing, or whatever…”

Harry offers a bitter chuckle.

“You try being an alpha that can barely fucking sleep for months at a time,” he says. He’s not trying to take it out on Jeff, but Jeff really has no idea how it feels to be so fucking useless that he can’t even fall asleep. Harry is an alpha rockstar who can’t do the most simplistic, fundamental thing that every person on earth knows how to do. There are newborns that sleep better than Harry does.

Jeff ignores him, and you can tell he’s had plenty of practice.

“I have a proposal for you, and quite frankly, if I manage to keep this story out of the papers today, which I think I’ve managed, you have no choice but to listen to my proposal. Not just listen to my proposal, but do exactly what I say. Because I’m not exaggerating when I say that your career could be on the line here.”

“Excuse me?” Harry exclaims. He knows the insomnia is bad, but what does that have to do with his career?

“You’re a liability to the label,” Jeff explains calmly. He nods toward the pills and water that Harry’s already forgotten about, and Harry grabs them and downs both pills with one big gulp. “At this point, you’re posing a risk to yourself and others. And let’s be realistic here. You look like shit. You look exhausted and yeah, the omegas will still drop their panties for you any day of the week, but eventually they’ll start to realize that you’re looking like a worn down 40-year-old instead of a mid-20s rockstar with a huge cock.”

Harry sits there in a stunned silence for a moment. He’s not used to betas speaking to him that way, and he’s especially not used to _Jeff_ speaking that way. Begrudgingly, he can admit that the shock factor is effective.

Harry’s alpha enough to realize that Jeff is probably right. This has gone on too long, and it’s embarrassing and shameful and so silly, but he needs to figure out a solution because he doesn’t know how much longer he can live like this. He’s too tired to even have sex, at this point, and that’s by far the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

He’s exaggerating, but only slightly.

“Fine,” Harry says, and he can see the slight movement of Jeff’s body that indicates he’s surprised. He expected Harry to fight him more, and on a normal day, he’d be right to expect that. But when that car hit the wall, the fight left Harry’s body.

Harry pushes on. “So what’s your proposal?”

Jeff reaches into his back pocket and removes a flier that’s been folded there since he arrived at the hospital to meet Harry soon after he’d arrived himself. Harry didn’t think much of it when he first saw it, figured it was just something Jeff had on him when he received Harry’s texts and rushed over, but now he’s intrigued.

Harry glances down at the flier and reads the headline to himself.

**Are you a single alpha or omega suffering from insomnia?**

_Oh, fuck no,_ Harry thinks to himself automatically. He can see now that there’s an image of a happy alpha with an equally happy omega spooning in bed, eyes closed, and he really should’ve known something ridiculous like this was coming. He keeps reading.

**You’re not alone, and now, we have the perfect solution to help you sleep! Studies show that alphas and omegas are TEN times less likely to suffer from insomnia when they’re paired together for sleep. With our accredited AOSleep service, you’ll be paired with a man or woman of the opposite gender so you can finally get a good night’s sleep.**

“You can’t be serious with this,” Harry says, incredulous. He doesn’t even want to read on, instead opting to glance over at Jeff. Harry’s having trouble keeping his mouth from gaping open at the fact that he was just handed this.

Unfortunately for Harry, Jeff’s face says he’s deadly serious.

“I know this isn’t what you want—,” Jeff begins, and Harry lets out an undignified squawk. Jeff ignores him and keeps going. “But at this point, it’s the best possible solution unless you want to pursue long-term therapy or something. And trust me, I’m not opposed to that because God knows you need it,” he says, and Harry really needs to fire this fucking beta. “But that could take months, even years to identify the source of your issues. Right now, you need sleep, and you need it now. This service has rave reviews. You get paired with an omega, there’s a non-disclosure agreement so they can’t tell anyone, you get some good sleep, and you’re able to finish your second album. If it works out, maybe you can find an omega from the service that would be able to tour with you, or maybe you’ll find an omega girlfriend or boyfriend by then so you can rely on them instead. I don’t really care about the details. All I know is that you’re doing this.”

Jeff says the last bit like a command, and Harry’s never heard him sound more like an alpha. It’s irritating and makes Harry’s nostrils flare, but he knows he has bigger issues than his manager pretending his cock is as big as Harry’s.

“This is fucking humiliating,” Harry says finally.

Jeff sighs and reaches out to give Harry an awkward pat on the shoulder, but stops when he sees Harry’s face.

“Nobody has to know except me, you, and the omega that gets hired. We’ll use a fake name on the forms and a non-disclosure agreement, we’ll use my credit card, we’ll be subtle, and not another soul on the planet will have any clue this is happening unless you choose to tell them yourself.”

Harry thinks about it. On the one hand, having to pay an omega like a fucking prostitute to help put him to sleep like a child is just about the most embarrassing thing Harry can imagine. On the other hand, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to sleep next to an omega for a little while. Maybe the omega will be cute, even, and maybe the fact that Harry won’t be running himself ragged on no sleep will help him finally make some progress on his album.

 _It’s just for a few months,_ Harry reasons with himself. He can handle that, can’t he?

Harry looks over at Jeff, who is sitting there expectantly, and realizes that he’s been silent and pondering the situation for longer than he thought. Jeff looks nervous, and that’s how Harry realizes how serious he is about this. Everything Harry’s worked for could be at risk if he doesn’t go along with this, and that means there’s only one thing to do.

“Fine,” Harry agrees.

\--

Harry’s first meeting with his hired omega sleep companion is scheduled for just three days later. That doesn’t seem like long enough for a full vetting process of the mysterious omega that will be sleeping (literally) with a rockstar alpha for the next few months while having to stay completely quiet about it, but Harry trusts Jeff. Mostly.

Jeff is there when the omega arrives, and Harry is sprawled out on his living room sofa that’s too small for his long body, wearing trackies and an old, ripped up Rolling Stones t-shirt. It’s about 10PM, which is apparently a reasonable time for people to go to bed, though Harry’s pretty sure he hasn’t fallen asleep at 10PM since he was 14 years old.

It’s fine, though. Everything is fine, Harry’s not nervous at all, and this experience will be everything Jeff dreamed of.

Or at least, that’s what Harry’s been repeating to himself on a loop for the last two hours.

After another long and useless day at the studio, one in which Harry had about five different arguments with Kid about the direction for his own album and lyrics, Harry went home, cooked himself some lasagna, and curled up with a book for a while, trying his hardest not to think about what was about to happen.

But this is the moment, and he can’t put it off or distract himself any longer. They gave the omega the code to get through the gate (seems like a disastrous idea, but at least he doesn’t have a key to the door and they can change the gate code at any time) in order to avoid an omega lingering outside Harry’s gate if paparazzi ever decide to show up.

Jeff managed to successfully keep Harry’s car accident out of the papers for now, but you never really know with the British tabloids. They could be on Harry’s doorstep tomorrow for that reason or any other, so it’s best to be prepared. This way, if anyone sees Louis entering the gate, they’re likely to assume he’s either a fling of Harry’s or a friend, rather than a hired stranger showing up to get Harry through the night. God.

Harry tenses when the doorbell rings, but Jeff is already walking over to answer it.

“Hi,” Jeff says to the person standing there. “You must be Louis.” Harry can’t see them, but he holds his breath to hear the response.

“Uh, hey,” a high-pitched and heavily accented voice responds. “Are you…?”

Jeff laughs uncomfortably.

“No, god, no,” he says, laughing again, and Harry should be offended. “I’m his manager, but he’s in the next room. I heard really good things from the agency, but if we could just go over the paperwork quickly and make sure you’re fully aware of the non-disclosure agreement and the consequences of not following it…”

Harry starts to tune out Jeff’s lecture, having already talked through these details about six times in the last several days, and instead focuses his attention on trying to scent the omega from the next room.

He doesn’t pick up on anything, which is odd. Generally speaking, Harry feels like he has a pretty good nose, especially when it comes to omegas. Not this time though, and the mystery is intriguing enough that Harry overcomes his embarrassment and gets up from the sofa to go investigate the omega himself.

Harry peaks around the corner toward the entryway, just out of sight of Jeff and the omega, and just that quick look stops him in his tracks. His heart starts pounding and he can feel his cock thicken in his pants. _That’s_ the omega they sent to sleep with him? God help him, and more importantly, god help his knot.

Harry takes another deep breath, nostrils flared, but he’s still not getting much of the omega’s scent beyond a slight whiff of vanilla, which can only mean that he wears scent-neutralizers to tone down. It makes sense, considering this service is intended to match omegas and alphas for sleep rather than other illicit activities, but it still bums Harry out.

He really wants to smell this omega.

Harry is hidden beyond their line of sight still, and he considers approaching them in the entryway while Jeff is going over his whole spiel, but he wants the omega’s full attention on him when he sees him for the first time.

What can he say? It’s the alpha in him.

Harry retreats to the living room and sits back on the sofa, crossing his legs and wrapping a lean muscular arm around the back of the sofa. He wants to make a good impression on the man he’s going to be spending many nights with over the next few months, even if they’re probably not going to end up sleeping together in the way Harry is already craving.

Probably.

If Harry checked his watch, he’d know that Jeff and the omega were only talking for about five minutes or so, but every torturous minute on the couch without Harry being introduced to him feels like an hour. Finally, Jeff seems to wrap up his conversation with the soft-spoken omega, and Harry hears their footsteps approaching.

Harry gets to his feet, intending to introduce himself as soon as they’re within sight.

“Louis,” Jeff says as he comes around the corner, and that’s his name.

 _Louis._ Harry mouths it, gets a feel for it on his tongue.

It feels good. Harry can also think of some other things that would feel good on his tongue, including Louis’ slick—

“Meet the alpha who doesn’t know how to sleep,” Jeff says, gesturing lamely toward Harry. “Mr. Harry Styles.”

Louis is standing in the doorway to the living room now, and Harry has a mixed reaction. Half of him reacts to Jeff saying his full name out loud and referring to him as an incompetent sleeper to this stranger, and the other half of him (mostly his lower half, admittedly) reacts to seeing Louis, his new omega sleep assistant, right up close.

As a result of this mixed reaction, Harry makes an expression that can probably be most accurately described as a grimace, which isn’t ideal for making a good first impression. He forces his face into neutrality.

Louis is stunning. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it. He’s petite, at least a few inches shorter than Harry with thin shoulders, curved hips, thick thighs, and small features. He has a little scruff and his brown hair is soft and unstyled, swept to the side like he couldn’t be bothered with it today, but it’s incredibly shiny. He’s dressed in a soft gray t-shirt and an unzipped Adidas jacket, and his pants are a dark jogger-style. Harry can see that Jeff has invited the omega to take his shoes off already, so Harry can see his white socked feet.

Now that Louis is closer to him, Harry can smell his scent more strongly, though he knows it’s probably not even close to how strong it would be if the omega weren’t relying partially on suppressants. Harry assumes omegas in Louis’ line of work are encouraged to use them enough that it reduces the likelihood that the omega could be attacked, but not enough that it wipes out their scent completely. Harry knows scent is a huge part of why alphas and omegas have such a positive experience sleeping with one another.

He smells of vanilla and a vague fruity scent, and Harry needs more than this. All omegas smell amazing—it’s kind of their thing, you know—but there’s something different about this one that Harry can’t put his finger on.

Usually, he’ll smell a particularly pretty omega and maybe his cock will fatten up, that’s not unusual, but Harry has never before felt personally offended by the fact that an omega is disguising their scent even just a little bit. He’s longing to smell this omega for real, and he’s only been standing in front of him for a minute or so.

It’s ridiculous, but Harry can’t help it.

“Harry,” Jeff says, pulling Harry out of his embarrassing internal monologue.

That’s when Harry realizes that he’s been standing there staring like a creep when he should be introducing himself.

“Uh, shit, sorry,” Harry says, gulping in air. “I’m Harry.”

His voice sounds lame even to his own ears. This is off to a rocky start.

Louis’ eyebrows have shot up to his fringe, and his pink mouth drops open.

“You’re.....Harry Styles,” he says, and it almost sounds like a question rather than an acknowledgement, as though Louis isn’t quite able to believe it. “You’re famous, aren’t you, mate?”

Harry honestly hadn’t thought far ahead enough to wonder how much Louis would know about his situation, but he can see now that the omega didn’t know anything beyond that the arrangement needed to be kept secret.

Harry’s intestines instantly tie themselves in knots.

“Yes, he’s famous,” Jeff responds before Harry has the chance, voice all business. “That’s why the paperwork was more extensive for this particular client and that’s why I emphasized the consequences if you reveal this to anyone, even close family members or friends. Harry’s been struggling with insomnia for a while now, and we want to deal with the problem as quickly and delicately as possible. Are you up for the task, or do I need to have some lawyers threaten you?”

It’s Harry’s turn for his eyebrows to reach his hairline. He’s never heard Jeff act this much like an alpha before, but he did it smoothly enough that one might actually believe it if they couldn’t smell him and if Harry weren’t standing right there, tall and strong and looming in a way that no beta can truly imitate.

“Woah,” Louis says, eyes so wide that it’s almost comical. Harry wants to pet his fringe. “Chill out, mate. I’m not exactly in Styles’ demographic,” he adds, defensive. Harry would like to argue with that very much, considering pretty small omega is exactly the demographic he’s always wanted to appeal to, but it’s probably not the appropriate time. “I only know who the guy is because of my little sisters.”

Harry is suspicious of that statement, mainly because of the way Louis’ eyes nervously skirt back to Harry’s face and because of the slight gulping motion that Harry can see his throat make. Harry wants to bite there, wants him to turn his head just enough for Harry to see where he knows his bonding spot is hiding.

Harry seriously needs to rein himself in.

“Fine,” Jeff dismisses. “As long as you’re fully aware of the consequences of breaking our agreement, I’ll be going. If you need anything, Harry, let me know. I’ll leave my ringtone on tonight.”

Jeff gives Louis one more harsh look and turns on his heels, all semblance of politeness from their initial greeting in the entryway gone. Harry watches Louis react and then immediately his disguise reaction, and it’s fascinating. He sees the furrow of Louis’ brow and the clench of his jaw, which honestly just makes Harry’s cock harden further, but it only lasts a second before Louis has smoothed out his features and looks soft and angelic once more.

Harry’s impressed.

“So,” Louis says, slightly awkwardly. He clears his throat and tries again. “I’m so happy to be here with you and I think this will be a positive experience for us both.”

 _This is a script,_ Harry thinks. _He’s basically reading me a script._

“As you’re probably aware, I’ll be here 3-5 times a week, depending on your needs and schedule. I’ll arrive at the time that you think is best, we’ll go to sleep, and in the morning, I’ll leave promptly. If for any reason you’re not satisfied or you’re having trouble connecting with me in a way that’s allowing you to experience improved sleep, AOSleep will be happy to provide an alternative omega that you can sleep better with.”

Louis continues running through his lines, and it makes Harry wonder how many times he’s done this before, or how many other alphas he’s helped fall asleep. Harry bites down on his own tongue to keep from growling at the thought.

“Whenever I come here, I’ll be wearing this bracelet,” Louis says, holding up a delicate wrist. He’s wearing a band that reminds Harry of his own Apple watch, but instead of a watch face, there’s a discrete black button. “If I press this, the police will instantly be called to this address. If you try to remove it from my wrist, the police will instantly be called to this address.”

Harry’s gut twists at the thought of Louis feeling unsafe in his home or anywhere, for that matter, and more generally at the thought that omegas need to wear this as a precautionary measure because of the potential that they could be attacked while trying to do their jobs. An unconventional job, sure, but still not one where they should have to deal with that. No omega should ever have to deal with that.

“Have you ever pressed it accidentally?” Harry asks, taking a step closer to Louis. He looks down at him and widens his stance slightly, getting a feel for how much bigger he is than the omega, and he’s impressed when he sees that Louis doesn’t flinch or back down in the slightest. Instead, he looks up at Harry through his lashes like a challenge.

“All the time,” Louis says. “But there’s a way to turn it off if you hit it accidentally, and no,” he adds, seeing that Harry is about to say something. “I’m not going to tell you how because that would defeat the purpose.”

Harry deflates.

Louis giggles at the sight, the first authentic reaction he’s given since arriving at Harry’s house, aside from the initial surprise at seeing Harry, and Harry wants to hear that sound again immediately.

“Okay,” Harry says instead, still gazing down at Louis. “I promise I’ll never do anything that could hurt you. You’re always going to be safe with me.”

He hopes Louis can hear the earnestness in his voice because he genuinely doesn’t think he can go through with this if there’s any question of the omega feeling unsafe with him in any way.

Louis looks slightly surprised by that statement, but he quickly stifles his reaction once again. Not before Harry catches something else, however—not an expression or a motion, but a scent. It’s a subtle change, but Harry’s already tuned in to Louis’ scent enough that he picks up on it. After all, he’s been hyper-focused on the omega in front of him since he walked in the door.

It’s a stronger version of the vanilla scent Louis is already emitting, but the vaguely fruity scent can now be identified as watermelon, and Harry immediately identifies it as the smell of slick. Louis had a strong bodily reaction to Harry telling him that the omega will always be safe with him, and it takes everything in Harry to keep the cocky smirk off his face.

Louis is attracted to him, and even better—Louis is attracted to the safety that Harry is offering.

Harry can work with that. Harry can definitely work with that. Not that he’s going to, of course, because they’re just partaking in a business arrangement to treat a condition that Harry needs assistance with.

“So, what are your preferences?” Louis asks, shrugging off his jacket and laying it neatly on the arm of the sofa.

“Uh,” Harry begins, completely helpless to prevent the barrage of images overtaking his brain. _You under me until you’re crying with pleasure, you riding me until you’re crying with pleasure, your arms pinned behind your back, you face down and arse up, you on my knot, you on my knot for a second and third time in the same night, my face in your slick, eating you out until you cry…._

Harry’s mind is going a mile a minute, and it’s time to stop.

“How do you mean?” Harry finally settles on, figuring that’s a safe enough statement.

Louis’ face suggests that he knows exactly what just flashed through Harry’s brain, one eyebrow raised, and Harry gets another whiff of a strengthened scent. This time, he can’t keep the smirk off his face.

Louis rolls his eyes and immediately realizes what he’s done, catching himself yet again. Something about the way he’s controlling his behavior and responses to Harry makes Harry want to get inside his head and figure him out, what makes him tick, who he really is beneath the attempt at professionalism. Harry’s fascinated.

“So is there a typical protocol to this?” Harry inquires, leaning forward further into Louis’ personal space without going far enough that he might make Louis feel uncomfortable.

“Not really,” Louis says, shrugging. “I’m just here to do what you need so you can sleep. Of course, me just being here is part of it, but I’m happy to partake in any part of your usual routine for before you go to sleep. Within reason,” Louis adds, seeing the raise of Harry’s brows. “Hot tea, brushing your teeth, reading….I’m happy to follow along.”

Aside from the occasional face mask, Harry doesn’t generally do anything besides brush his teeth before he goes to sleep, so he gestures for Louis to follow him and leads him down the hallway toward the master bedroom.

“Don’t most single alphas like to, uh,” Harry struggles to finish his sentence in the most diplomatic way possible.

“Pop a knot before bed?” Louis asks dryly as they turn the corner into Harry’s bedroom.

Harry’s thrown off by Louis once again, and he stops in his tracks when he enters the room, looking over at the omega.

“I’m not involved in anything sexual,” Louis says, taking the initiative to walk toward Harry’s bed before pausing beside it. He’s clearly not going to get into the bed without express permission. “If alphas want to jerk off before I arrive, they can do that, but it’s not allowed while I’m here and I don’t sleep with clients. Getting off may help people sleep, but it shouldn’t be the prerequisite.”

He’s smart. Very smart, probably even smarter than he’s letting on, instead trying to disguise it beneath his thick accent and casual clothes, and Harry only finds that more attractive.

“Do you do anything else besides work for the agency?” Harry asks, once again gesturing Louis toward him, this time as he walks into the master bathroom so Harry can brush his teeth. It’s odd, inviting this stranger into his bathroom to watch him do something so fundamentally human when Harry knows almost nothing about him. It’s as though they’re going through the morning after a one-night stand before the one-night stand itself.

It’s throwing Harry off a bit, but in the best way.

He realizes as he loads up his toothbrush with toothpaste that Louis hasn’t responded, and instead is just watching him in the mirror quietly, looking small and delicate. He doesn’t look intimidated or uncomfortable at all, though Harry has a small internal panic attack at the prospect for a brief second, but he doesn’t look interested in volunteering any information about himself either.

Finally, Louis meets his eyes in the mirror. They’re a deep ocean blue, and that realization trips Harry up again, making him choke on the toothpaste in a manner that isn’t quite befitting the sexy rockstar alpha image Harry holds so dear.

“This is more of a means to an end,” Louis says, a small smile on his lips after watching Harry act like a disaster on two legs. “I brushed my teeth before I arrived today, so if it’s okay with you, I’m going to leave you to it.”

Harry nods, mouth full of toothpaste and lips foamy, and he watches Louis’ reflection retreat from the room.

Louis isn’t going to make getting to know him easy, but Harry’s definitely up for the challenge.

Harry finishes brushing his teeth and decides he’s ready to make his first attempt at sleep in a day and a half. He cleaned his face and body in the shower about an hour ago and he knows that his natural scent is probably out in full force, overwhelming in the presence of an omega he’s attracted to, and Harry can only hope that Louis is used to that kind of thing and won’t be offended.

When he returns to his bedroom, he finds Louis still lingering by the edge of the bed, just gazing around the room slowly. Harry’s bedding consists of a black lace duvet and soft pink sheets, and Harry rarely brings omegas here—he generally chooses to go to their place instead of showing them where he lives—so it’s a strange feeling to have someone standing here where they can judge him for the way he lives, the things he likes.

Louis looks at Harry expectantly, and Harry takes the hint.

“Please,” he says, holding a hand out toward the bed and welcoming Louis to crawl into it. It’s a California King, as spacious of a bed as you can get, and Harry wonders if they’ll be sleeping close together or if just the omega’s presence in the bed is meant to be enough to help alphas sleep. He’s about to find out.

Louis follows Harry’s command easily, crawling into the bed and sitting up against the pillow on one side. He wraps his arms around his legs and pulls them up to his chest, watching quietly as Harry follows him into the bed and sprawls out on his side, turned toward Louis.

“So…” Harry trails off. He doesn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable with Louis there next to him, not in the slightest, but he also has no real idea how things are meant to go from here.

“Now we sleep,” Louis says simply. “But you should probably turn the lights off first.”

Harry gives a little chuckle at himself for forgetting one of the most basic steps and then turns around, reaching onto his night table to hit a button on the remote that controls all the technology and electricity in his bedroom. With that, the lights in the room go out, and the only reason Harry can still vaguely see the outline of the omega beside him is because of the light from the street lamps outside shining through the large windows behind his bed.

“I like to talk before bed,” Harry whispers into the darkness, and he sees Louis inch closer to him. “That’s part of my typical routine, I’d say,” he adds. “It helps me get in the sleeping mood.”

It’s a lie. It’s a total lie, but Louis doesn’t know that.

“Mmmhm,” Louis mumbles. “I’m sure you do.” He’s clearly biting back a different retort, Harry doesn’t even have to be able to see his expression to know that, and Harry is very much looking forward to a day where Louis doesn’t bite back any of those retorts anymore. Harry wants to know exactly how this sweet omega feels at all times, regardless of how biting and sarcastic and sassy it may be.

“So,” Harry starts again, but he stops talking as soon as Louis moves toward him, pressing a small hand against his chest until Harry is lying flat on the bed on his back. The omega then lays his head right down on Harry’s chest, and even with the suppressants, his scent is so strong and intoxicating that Harry actually pinches his thigh to control himself. There is absolutely no way Louis is clueless to the activity south on Harry’s body, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“What’s your family like?” Harry asks, already aware that he’s not going to get an answer. Sure enough, Louis just snuggles his head into Harry’s chest further and sighs against Harry’s t-shirt. “Do y’have any pets?”

Harry can feel his eyelids drooping, and he suddenly realizes that he’s completely taken by the man laying with him. He’s not sure if it’s the same with any omega sent by AOSleep, but his senses are fully overwhelmed by this omega—his scent, the feeling of his soft skin, the tickle of his hair, and even just the sight of someone beside Harry in the dark where there would usually just be empty space.

“Why did they send you to me?” Harry asks, a final question as he feels himself drifting closer to what he vaguely remembers as sleep. “Me, with my particular case and the secrecy that comes with it.”

“Dunno,” Louis finally answers, and it’s nothing more than a whisper against Harry’s body. “Probably because I have nobody to tell. Nobody in my life even knows I do this.”

Those words rip open Harry’s chest and make his heart hurt a bit. He reaches down and grabs onto Louis’ hand, not sure if that breaks some kind of protocol or not, but Louis doesn’t pull away.

Harry desperately wants to know more about Louis, wants to know everything there is to know about Louis, but he knows this isn’t the last night they’ll do this. He has plenty of time.

And with that thought, Harry finally, _finally_ drifts into sleep.

\--

Harry wakes up at 6:30AM feeling like a new man.

For a moment, he’s not quite sure where he is or what’s going on, but it only takes a few seconds for his well-rested brain to recognize that yes, he’s at home, and yes, that’s an omega next to him, and yes, that omega next to him is the one responsible for Harry getting the best night’s rest he’s gotten in months, if not years.

Harry lets out a happy sigh, taking in the feeling. Not only is the omega beside him sleep-warm and soft, but Harry feels absolutely incredible. His mind feels calm and fully functional now that it doesn’t have to try and overcome the exhaustion, and he’s experiencing none of the soreness that often lingers in his muscles after his daily workouts because he’s not getting enough sleep for his body to repair itself. He feels strong and steady just from one night’s sleep.

It’s a feeling he could get used to.

Louis is still exhaling steady breaths next to him, fast asleep, and Harry can’t help but snuggle him closer.

The man beside Harry in bed is basically still a stranger, but there’s something about him that’s tugging at Harry’s heartstrings and making Harry never want to let him go. Still, he recognizes those feelings are probably not something he should voice out loud if he wants to keep his knot.

Harry just lays there for a while, basking in how well-rested he feels while also admittedly trying to scent Louis as much as he can over the suppressants. They were probably applied 12 hours ago, so they are beginning to fade, but Harry’s still not able to appreciate his scent much more than he was last night. If Louis already smells this good with suppressants, Harry doesn’t even want to think about how good he smells without them.

Actually, he does want to think about it. He wants to think about it very much.

Harry’s been lying there for about an hour and is becoming restless to begin his day when he realizes that he’s no longer hearing that deep breathing from the omega lying next to him. In fact, he hasn’t heard it in a while.

“Louis,” Harry whispers, just in case.

Louis opens one eye and looks at Harry. Then he opens the other, and he looks wide awake.

“How long have you been awake?” Harry asks incredulously.

Louis shrugs and pulls himself out of Harry’s grip, sitting up on the bed with some distance between them. He yawns sleepily, and something about the gesture makes Harry wants to pull him back in for a cuddle immediately, but he knows that’s not the appropriate move to make.

“I figured I’d let you sniff me a bit more,” Louis says, a bit of mischievousness flashing in his eyes.

Harry sits there and gapes at the omega, amazed that he really just got called out.

Over the past few years of success, Harry’s grown used to omegas fawning over him, flirting with him, and dropping their undergarments for him before he even gets the chance to ask. The only exceptions to that treatment from omegas are his mother, sister, and those Harry considers to be his closest friends. It’s unusual for Harry to receive this level of sass and humor from an omega that doesn’t fit into one of those categories.

Harry doesn’t know much about Louis, but he knows that Louis poses a bit of a challenge, and Harry loves that. It makes him want nothing more than to lay him down in Harry’s bed for a while longer, spreading him open (in more ways than one), and learning everything what makes him tick.

That would be inappropriate, however, since this is just a business transaction. A paid service, nothing more.

“So, how’d you sleep?” Louis says, hands delicately adjusting his fringe. His hair is slightly more tousled than it was last night and there’s a crease from Harry’s t-shirt on Louis’ cheek, but otherwise, he looks just as radiant as he did when he arrived.

“I slept amazing,” Harry says honestly. He was somewhat skeptical about this plan of Jeff’s working, but he really did sleep well. Harry’s slept with omegas before, of course, but it’s pretty much been exclusively after Harry fucked their brains out, so he could never be sure whether the good sleep was because of the omega or the sex.

Regardless of how it was in the past, it’s clear to Harry after just one night that sleeping with Louis worked. He got a full night’s rest and even just seven hours of sleep is making his body feel like it’s almost back to normal. If Louis continues coming here multiple times per week, Harry feels like he’ll be unstoppable.

So much of Harry’s life has been made more difficult by his insomnia. It’s not something he would ever admit out loud, of course, but it’s been obvious for a long time. He has little creativity or inspiration when he’s so exhausted, and as a result, his songwriting and plans for music generally fall flat.

Harry used to love his daily workouts, whether he went to the gym to box or lift weights, or went for a run outside his house, but without sleep, working out often ends up feeling like a chore.

Harry’s insomnia makes his mood suffer, his friendships suffer, his family life suffer, his business relationships suffer, his performances suffer, and his overall career suffer. He feels like it’s the common denominator in everything he’s been struggling with lately, and it’s happening at a time when his life should be at its peak.

So if paying an omega to sleep beside him every night is what it’s going to take for Harry to turn it all around, he’s willing to do it. As long as they’re able to keep this quiet, Harry feels like this service could be the secret of success for his second album.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Louis says, pulling Harry out of his own head. Louis continues to sound like a used car salesman going through the motions, but there’s a note of genuineness in his voice that he can’t seem to hide completely. Louis is actually happy that the night was a success for Harry.

“Thank you,” Harry says, smiling and reaching out to pat Louis on the knee. He almost expects Louis to whack his hand off now that the sleeping part is over, but Louis just looks down at his hand in surprise and then lifts his gaze back up to look at Harry steadily. Harry looks right back, appreciating the sight for what it is.

“Anytime,” Louis says softly.

\--

“Anytime” turns into three or four days per week, depending on Harry’s schedule.

There are some nights when he’s at the studio or performing so late that he doesn’t schedule time to sleep with Louis. Truth be told, Harry would love for Louis to be with him every night, but he also doesn’t want to make Louis go to Harry’s place when Harry needs him at odd hours or in the middle of the night. It doesn’t seem fair to drag Louis down with him, even if he’s being paid for it.

Every time Louis comes over, he’s dressed in soft and comfortable clothes. His outfits range from joggers and hoodies to leggings and t-shirts, and every damn time he knocks on Harry’s door, he looks so soft that Harry has to resist the urge to throw him over his shoulder and have his way with him.

Harry’s been showing a lot of restraint overall when it comes to Louis. It’s honestly impressive.

The one area where he doesn’t show restraint is his determination to find out more about the omega helping fill his bed each night. While it seems like Louis is not used to his clients taking any real interest in him personally, Harry is not like other clients. He wants to know Louis as more than just a warm body helping him sleep.

For the first few weeks, Harry pesters Louis with questions almost every night. Whenever Louis gives him a look, Harry plays dumb and continues trying to convince him that talking is the way Harry gets ready for sleep.

Of course, these attempts are not successful, mainly because after their first night together, Louis clearly saw the proof that Harry does not require conversation to fall asleep. All he requires is Louis’ body next to him.

Harry’s too fucking easy, and Louis picked up on that on day one.

Though Harry fails to learn much more about Louis through their visits, he somehow manages to accidentally spill the beans about himself far more than he would under regular circumstances. Something about Louis makes Harry want to tell him all his deepest darkest secrets, and Louis often only has to ask him the simplest question for Harry to open up with something profound about his emotional state or something from his past.

Louis is gifted at that, and Harry’s clearly not.

During their second visit together, Harry confesses to Louis that he’s been suffering from insomnia off and on for about three years, though it’s only gotten really bad during the last six months or so. When Louis points out that the timeline matches perfectly with when his solo career began and when he began working on his second album, Harry realizes that Louis just had an epiphany about his own life that Harry himself hadn’t managed to have yet.

He points that out to Louis, but Louis just says “sleep time!” and closes his eyes.

During their fourth visit together, Harry tells Louis that his label thinks that the bachelor alpha rockstar image is the most suited for Harry and that he’s been told repeatedly that finding a long-term omega for himself would likely be a total disaster for his career. Harry also tells Louis that based on his fanbase, he tends to agree. Louis doesn’t say anything to that, but he looks skeptical.

The next time he comes over, Louis is wearing a white t-shirt with a poorly ironed-on image of alpha singer Adam Levine posing next to his omega model wife Behati Prinsloo. Harry suspects the shirt is homemade.

During their ninth visit together, Harry admits that he hates working with Kid and that he feels like the other alpha is trying to take over Harry’s career and music for the sake of attention and fame.

“Kid Harpoon looks like a thumb,” Louis observes after stealing Harry’s phone to google photos of him. Harry laughs, and every time he sees Kid for the next week, Louis’ voice echoes in his head. He really does look like a thumb.

Louis listens to Harry talk and complain without saying much, only ever interrupting to ask the occasional question, and under normal circumstances, Harry would probably feel very uncomfortable about the fact that he’s offering up so much information to an omega that’s giving him almost none in return.

Harry doesn’t feel that way though.

If he had to put his finger on why he doesn’t feel exploited or exposed in front of Louis, he would probably say that it’s because no matter how much Louis tries to disguise his true thoughts and feelings from Harry, no matter how much he tries to play the perfect sleep assistant role, he never quite manages to reach the level of aloof indifference that one would expect from someone who is still closer to being a stranger than a friend.

Louis plays a role to seem detached, and Harry’s certain that his little act works on a lot of people.

It’s just not working on Harry.

\--

About three weeks into Harry and Louis’ sleeping arrangement, Harry has another late night at the studio. One of his old friends that he used to play guitar with before his career took off is in town, just having gotten off his own first tour, and he texts Harry to see if he’s around.

Niall Horan comes to Harry’s studio to check it out, and though Harry’s only about halfway through laying down the chorus on a song he’s feeling surprisingly good about, he stops working to give Niall a hug as soon as he arrives.

“How are you, Niall?” Harry asks, dimpling widely. It’s always great to see an old friend.

“I’m doing great, Harold,” Niall says, glancing around the studio with an impressed look on his face. Niall hasn’t quite hit the level of fame that Harry has yet, as it’s generally harder for omegas to receive enough confidence from their labels to get the types of opportunities Harry was offered until they really prove themselves, but Harry knows his time is coming. He’ll probably have his own studio space like this one in no time. “This place looks sick.”

Harry thanks him and does a quick round of introductions—Mitch is there, huddled in the corner texting Sarah, a couple of other songwriters that Harry’s worked with in the past are there, passing a joint among themselves, and of course, Kid is there. Kid is frowning when Harry introduces him to Niall, and he barely manages more than a grunt in greeting.

Niall is too easy going to let it bother him and just shrugs it off, but Harry can’t help but glare at Kid.

“Got a problem, mate?” Harry asks.

Kid flashes him a smile. “Just thought maybe you could actually finish a track today, that’s all,” he says.

There’s a way for that sentence to not sound condescending, but Kid doesn’t quite manage to get there. Actually, Kid probably isn’t even trying to sound anything other than condescending.

“It’s my fucking album,” Harry says, stepping forward into Kid’s space like he’s wanted to do every damn day for the past several months. “If I’m done for the day, then I’m done for the day. And my song will be finished at my own pace. I feel like I keep saying this to you, but if you don’t like the process, the door is right there.”

Harry moves his chin in the direction of the door, keeping his eyes on Kid’s face.

The muscle in Kid’s jaw twitches and for a moment, he looks like he wants to actually shove Harry, but he doesn’t actually do it. Despite his cockiness, he probably knows how badly that would end for him, so he just gives another sickening sweet smile instead.

“Alright, boys,” he says, taking a step back from Harry. “Clearly there’s only room for one knot in this room today.”

Mitch and the other two songwriters offer small chuckles at that, but Harry can tell they’re forced. When Harry glances back at Niall, he can see the omega looking between them, just the slightest expression of discomfort on his face. It takes a lot for Niall to feel uncomfortable, and Harry feels bad for being the one to cause it. Kid started it though.

“Go home, Kid,” Harry dismisses, talking to the other alpha like he’s a child. Appropriate, considering his name.

The double meaning makes Kid deflate visibly, and Harry wants to make a comment about there only ever being one knot in the room, but he resists. He knows Jeff will probably kill him when Kid runs off to cry to him about this, but Harry doesn’t give a damn.

Kid doesn’t need to be told twice and just grabs his coat and heads out the door, though he does mutter some unflattering comments about Harry on his way out. Harry just rolls his eyes in response and turns his attention back to his friend.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Harry asks hopefully. He’s feeling ravenous.

Niall nods, clearly craving something to eat as well, and Harry’s not surprised.

“I know just the place,” Niall says, leading the way.

\--

“Just the place” turns out to be a small pub in London that Harry’s never heard of before.

It’s small and easy to miss if you’re just driving by, and since Harry rarely hangs out in this area, he’s not sure he ever would’ve stumbled upon it if not for Niall. Niall tells him that he has some friends that work there, and Harry is always more than happy to expand his friend circle, particularly when it comes to regular people who don’t care about how much money he makes or where he’s touring next.

They’re greeted at the door by an omega with brown skin, black hair, and what looks like dozens of tattoos, though Harry can’t see the ones that extend past the lines of his clothing. Niall knows him, of course, seems likely to know everyone in the restaurant, and he introduces the man to Harry as Zayn.

Zayn seems wholly unimpressed by Harry and it’s pretty obvious that he’s not a fan of Harry’s music, but Harry’s not offended. He knows his music isn’t for everyone, and he’d rather not befriend people who are huge fans of his anyway. It seems like fans would be more likely to try to exploit the friendship.

Zayn leads Niall and Harry to a table toward the back, away from a lot of the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. Harry manages to avoid getting spotted as he makes his way to the back, and that means he’s probably safe from the prying eyes of fans and will be able to just eat, have a few pints, and hang out with some new and old friends.

“That’s my mate Liam,” Niall says once they’ve settled down in their seats and have the menus open in front of them. He’s pointing to an alpha taking orders at a nearby table, though the man hasn’t spotted him yet.

“Lou should also be here, but…” Niall trails off, glancing around the room. “Ah-hah! LEWIS!!”

Niall calls out his friend’s name obnoxiously enough that Harry actually hides his face for a moment, certain that they’re going to catch the attention of someone who will notice Harry and bother him by asking for autographs or taking sneaky photos that aren’t actually sneaky at all for the rest of the evening. Thankfully, Niall only calls out the one time and manages to successfully grab his friend’s attention, as Harry hears someone approaching a moment later.

“You live to embarrass me,” a voice says, and Harry knows that voice. Harry _definitely_ knows that voice. And more importantly, Harry definitely knows the scent that walked its way over here with that voice.

He immediately uncovers his face and sees Louis. _His_ Louis.

Harry stares at him in shock, unable to quite piece together the fact that the man he’s only ever really seen in the privacy of his bedroom is now standing here in front of him in the real world.

His fringe is brushed back in an artful sidesweep and he’s wearing black shirt and black trousers that look like they’re a size Medium when they should be a size Small. There’s a pen tucked behind one ear and a cigarette behind the other, and he’s got a pad of paper in his hand that indicates that he’s working here as a waiter as well.

Harry opens his mouth to greet Louis, but Louis immediately offers him an almost imperceptible shake of the head, his blue eyes wide, and that immediately brings Harry back down to earth. Nobody knows that Louis and Harry know each other. Nobody knows that Harry has an issue with insomnia, and based on what Louis confessed to him on their first night together, nobody knows that Louis quite literally sleeps with alphas for extra money.

Outside of the bedroom, Louis and Harry don’t know each other.

“Louis, this is Harry, though you probably already know that based on how much of Lotts’ Instagram page is devoted to him,” Niall says, laughing. “And Harry, this is Louis. I met him here a couple of years ago when we bonded over talking shit about some nasty alphas that were shoving each other over by the bar, and we’ve been best friends ever since.”

Louis smiles fondly at Niall before focusing his attention back on Harry.

“It’s nice to meet you, Harry,” Louis says, offering Harry a slightly uncomfortable smile.

“It’s wonderful to meet you too, Louis,” Harry says in return, reaching up to shake Louis’ hand.

Harry’s momentarily struck by how odd it is that he’s finally touching Louis’ skin in the real world, but before he has the chance to fully appreciate that fact, Louis is pulling away. Louis is looking at Harry with a soft expression, and Harry wants to kiss him.

Harry’s wanted to kiss Louis for a while now, actually, but the urge has never been stronger than now.

“I’ve got to go take care of my tables, but if you’re sticking around, my shift ends in like,” Louis pulls his phone out of his pocket and glances down at the screen. “An hour or so.” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response before he’s turning and walking away, hips swaying as he goes. Harry watches with a dry mouth.

“Alright, alpha,” Niall snorts, and Harry yanks his attention away from Louis’ backside.

“Excuse me?” Harry says, leaning forward.

“The thirst on your face, man,” Niall laughs loudly. “Louis is quite the character, but he’s got the body to back it up.”

Harry knows he probably shouldn’t ask Niall anything about Louis because it feels like cheating, but Harry also feels like Louis has been subtly cheating for weeks to try and get all the hot gossip on Harry while never providing any information himself. Harry doesn’t even know Louis’ last name, for fuck’s sake, and that seems like the basics.

“Tell me more,” Harry says shamelessly. He glances over at Louis, who is smiling down at some kids sitting at a table with their parents, and Harry feels a stirring in his gut. Possibly somewhere else too.

“Louis Tomlinson, age 28,” Niall begins as if he’s reading someone’s dating profile. “He’s getting his PhD in Psychology at the mo’, so he spends a lot of his time trying to make enough money to pay his way through that. Shit’s expensive, and he never wants to accept help from anybody.”

Of course Louis is going for a PhD in Psychology. Of course. Harry probably should have guessed based on how much Louis has managed to basically unpack Harry’s problems for him in just a few short weeks while always ensuring that Harry is perfectly comfortable and still getting the sleep that he’s paying Louis for.

That also explains why he’s making money sleeping with insomniac alphas on the side when he already has another gig.

Harry grins. He knew his omega was smart, but he didn’t realize he was _that_ smart.

 _The omega,_ Harry’s brain corrects. Not _his_ omega. Harry sighs at himself.

“He’s a bit shy, but once you get to know him, you really get to see what a riot he is. He’s funny, smart, and sarcastic, but he’s also just about the sweetest person ever. Always up for a cuddle, always up for a cry, always up for a chat. There have been times on the road when I felt like I couldn’t call anybody, but I could always call Louis.”

Niall talks about Louis with a bit of wonder in his voice, and Harry can’t say he’s surprised. These are the first real pieces of information that Harry has learned about Louis beyond what he’s observed, but it all matches up perfectly.

Harry’s not sure how he got lucky enough to be paired with Louis as a sleep partner, but he’s grateful.

\--

It takes a little more than an hour and a half for Louis to actually wrap his shift and get the chance to come sit down with Niall, Harry, Liam, and Zayn, the latter two of whom have now finished working, but Harry would’ve kept making excuses to wait forever if he had to. He’s determined to finally see Louis in a setting where Louis can’t just put up an act and pretend it’s all business, and Harry plans on soaking in every moment of this that he can.

Harry has been strategically taking up the space of two spots at the table since he arrived in order to keep everyone from settling down in the seat directly next to him, and Liam and Zayn both happily obliged by taking other seats rather than trying to crowd into the alpha’s space.

By the time Louis drags himself over to the table, pen and pad finally gone, he has no choice but to sit beside Harry.

As he sits in the chair, Louis gives Harry a look like he knows exactly what Harry’s been doing.

Harry gazes back innocently and raises a single eyebrow.

“Another round of drinks, gentlemen?” Harry asks, glancing around the table.

When everyone nods, Harry waves over an omega waitress who looks startled to see both him and Niall sharing a table with three of her co-workers. Instead, Harry orders two rounds and requests them back to back to back, ignoring the groans that prompts from everyone at the table.

“Trying to get us drunk?” Niall asks, batting his eyelashes at Harry. Harry just rolls his eyes and laughs.

“I think we could all do with some loosening up,” Harry says, and he glances over at Louis.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Zayn says dryly, the most he’s said at one time since Harry arrived tonight. When Harry looks over at him, he’s looking between Louis and Harry with raised eyebrows, clearly suspicious. Harry looks over to gauge Louis’ response to that look, but Louis just looks amused.

When the waitress returns with a tray of beers, Harry finally breaks his attention away from Louis long enough to pick up his pint and offer a toast.

“To new friends!” Harry shouts happily, and while only Niall returns his enthusiasm, he can see the others are smiling. Louis is holding his pint glass with two small hands and his fringe has fallen into his face, so Harry doesn’t even think before he’s reaching forward to brush it out of the way. Louis doesn’t react to the touch, but he looks at Harry when he takes his first sip, and Harry hears the whispers from across the table where Niall has observed the interaction.

Harry’s always been an obvious bastard, but he needs to not be when it comes to this. Harry and Louis may have now met outside of Harry’s bedroom, but everything that happens inside it is still locked down tight. Nobody can know, not Harry’s friends, nor Louis’, and Harry needs to be less obvious about his intrigue toward an omega that he’s supposed to have just met.

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes, laughing awkwardly to himself. “Way overstepping there.”

Louis frowns, and the whispers from Niall’s side of the table grow even louder and more distracting.

“No worries, mate,” Louis says cautiously, looking at Harry a bit like he’s a spooked horse. “I brush my fringe out of my face about 60 times a day, so I really shouldn’t be surprised when somebody does it for me.”

Harry smiles, still feeling a bit unsettled, but thankfully, the whispering finally stops and a real conversation between the five people at the table picks up. They each talk about their jobs and their interests, and it’s so fun for Harry to hear about people who lead normal lives without any of the chaos and fame that he’s grown so accustomed to within the last couple of years.

Harry successfully avoids looking at Louis for most of the night, but he also spends almost every moment thinking about looking at Louis, so that’s less of a success.

He just can’t seem to help himself.

\--

None of the omegas end up finishing their second beers, so Liam and Harry both decide to quit while they’re ahead too.

It’s been two more hours and Harry has reached a pleasant level of tipsy. He’s had a great night and enjoyed meeting Niall’s friends, so he decides to be generous and call cars to take them home, as he doesn’t feel comfortable having anyone drive themselves. Niall, Louis, and Harry all live up in the northern parts of London, so Harry plans for one of the cars to drop them all off up there, and Liam and Zayn live more toward the west, so Harry figures they can pile into another car.

Harry settles the bill easily, waving off protests from everyone else at the table, and smiles kindly at the waitress.

He’s starting to feel a bit tired, his belly filled with beer and chips, and he can see that the tone of conversation between the others at the table has slowed as they all start to fade.

Harry chances a glance at Louis, his first in a while, and sees the omega’s jacket sleeves are practically swallowing his hands entirely, but he’s still managing to bite at his fingernails. His hair is messy from running his fingers through it and his cheeks are flushed, and he looks so fucking pretty that Harry’s taken aback by it.

Louis isn’t looking at him, probably because he no longer expects Harry to look back, so Harry just takes a moment to take him in and appreciate the sight. He’s never seen anybody as beautiful as this omega.

Harry’s staring is interrupted when a message on his phone beeps, indicating that at least one of the cars has arrived.

“Ready?” Harry asks the table, and everyone nods and starts gathering their coats before filing out of the pub, waving goodbye to their coworkers and any lingering regulars that they know. A few customers seem to recognize Harry on his way out, but Harry manages to escape without having to interact with anyone.

Zayn and Liam get in the first car, and Harry waves goodbye to them, still unsure of whether Zayn hates him or likes him. He supposes he’ll figure it out eventually if they meet again. Once they’ve both been driven off, Harry turns to his remaining companions, including the blue-eyed omega whose scent is tickling Harry’s nostrils. Harry can smell Niall too, but it has no effect.

“You’re alright with sharing a car, right?” Harry asks Niall and Louis, and they both nod.

“Sure, sure,” Niall says.

“Thank you, Harry,” Louis says quietly, and Harry gives him a small smile. He knows Louis is probably getting whiplash from his behavior tonight, but he’s struggling to figure out how to act in public with him. If they hang out more, he’s sure he’ll get used to it, but tonight was definitely an adjustment period.

When the car pulls up alongside them and Harry has correctly identified it as theirs, he opens the car door for Niall and Louis and gestures them in before crawling in behind them. They’re all smushed together in the back seat, but the car is spacious enough that Harry doesn’t feel too overwhelmed. Admittedly, it’s a bit strange to be so close to Louis in an enclosed space without suppressants disguising his scent, but Harry’s a reasonable alpha. He can control himself.

Twenty minutes later when Niall has exited the car outside his building and is waving goodbye, Harry realizes that no, he actually really can’t control himself. Louis is just sitting in the seat beside him fixing his fringe and occasionally glancing down at his phone screen, and Harry still feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin.

Harry’s been lying in a bed next to Louis for weeks, but he’s never had him like this. He’s never had him where he’s just being himself, without putting anything on or trying to hide his true feelings for the sake of professionalism. Harry’s never gotten to see the real Louis until tonight, and even now, watching him through the shine from the street lights as their car passes through London, Harry knows there’s more of Louis to explore, and he might never get the chance again after this.

“So, psychology,” Harry says, and he watches as Louis loses his grip on his phone for a second, almost letting it slip through his fingers and fall to the floor of the car. He catches it at the last second and turns toward Harry.

“What about it?” He asks. He sounds amused.

“Have you been trying to psychoanalyze me all these weeks?” Harry asks, leaning in toward Louis enough that he can’t pass it off as casual. Harry’s eyes flick quickly toward the front of the car, but their driver isn’t paying them any attention.

“Do you need to be psychoanalyzed?” Louis asks in response. He raises an eyebrow and leans back in toward Harry.

Harry hums and moves back toward his side of the car, which causes Louis to blink in surprise. That reaction makes a small smirk appear on Harry’s face, and that was all the indication he needed, really.

“You know, you’ve spent so much time at my place over the last few weeks,” Harry says, looking out the window instead of at Louis. “I think it’s only fair that you let me up for a cuppa and show me around yours.”

The driver is pulling up at small brick building with a bright yellow door, and Harry knows now that this is where this little omega lives. He’d very much like to see more of the place, but it’s up to Louis now.

Louis opens the car door and climbs out, giving Harry a great view of his bum on the way, and for a moment, Harry thinks that’s going to be it. He expects Louis to slam the door, give him a small wave goodbye, and then run up to his flat so they can return to their usual sleeping arrangement in a few days without anything changing between them.

Harry doesn’t want that to happen, but he has no idea what Louis wants, and that’s half the issue.

Louis is just about the shut the door and confirm Harry’s expectations when he turns around and drops his head into sight, peaking back into the car. “Are you coming or not, rockstar?” Louis asks. Harry doesn’t need to be told twice.

He thanks the driver for the ride and follows Louis out of the car, stumbling slightly when his feet hit the pavement, his body beer heavy and graceless. Louis lets out a breathless laugh at that as he runs up toward his front door.

Harry is the type of alpha that always knows when an omega wants to be chased, and he knows as much now. He runs after Louis, taking care not to slip on the rain-soaked street in his ridiculous boots.

Louis doesn’t bother waiting for Harry; instead, he simply buzzes himself into the building and begins taking the stairs two at a time up to the third floor. Now that he’s had the opportunity to see Louis outside of a sleep setting, Harry realizes that this omega is the bounciest person he’s ever seen. He loves it.

Eventually, Louis comes to a stop in front of the door to his flat and pulls out a thick ring of keys, undoing two deadbolts and a lock on the doorknob before his door finally opens.

“Don’t expect to be impressed,” Louis tells him before leading the way inside.

Louis’ flat is small and cozy, and Harry can tell from a quick glance around that Louis isn’t much for cleaning. His place isn’t dirty, but it’s clear that he enjoys throwing his things around and doesn’t particularly enjoy putting them away afterwards. Harry smiles fondly and glances around some more, his eyes falling on the many photos hung up on the wall.

“Your family?” Harry asks, helping Louis out of his coat. Once Louis has shrugged his shoulders out and thanked Harry for the help, he looks at the particular photo that Harry’s looking at and a smile lightens his face.

“Yeah,” Louis says. “That’s my mum, who passed away a few years ago.” He points toward a beautiful woman with long brown hair and deep blue eyes, and it’s obvious that it’s her side of the family where Louis got his looks from. “And then I’ve got five little sisters and a little brother.”

“Twins?” Harry asks, looking at two teenage girls who look almost identical in one of the photos. Louis tugs gently at the opening to Harry’s jacket and Harry laughs at that before shrugging out of it so that Louis can drape it on the back of a rickety chair near his front door.

“Two sets,” Louis confirms, and when he returns from hanging up the jacket, he points to a little blonde boy and red-headed girl in one of the photos. “Doris and Ernest, and then the girls are Phoebe and Daisy. Plus Fiz and Lottie, they’re the eldest, both living here in London on their own now.” Louis looks at the photos with a small smile on his face, and Harry feels a rush of affection for how much the omega seems to care about his family.

They stand there for a moment, and Harry takes the time to absorb everything he can from the photos that tell him more about Louis’ life than anything he’s learned so far. Eventually, however, Louis interrupts him to ask about tea.

“Tea preference?” Louis asks, and something about his tone tells Harry that there’s a wrong answer.

“Milk, no sugar,” Harry guesses, wincing slightly as he prepares for Louis’ reaction. Thankfully, all he gets is an approving nod before Louis spins around and disappears into the narrow doorway that Harry assumes leads to the kitchen. Rather than stalk him around his flat, Harry decides to take some initiative and settles down on the small brown sofa Louis has set in the cramped living room. It’s old and worn, but comfortably so, and Harry settles his body back into the cushions and waits for Louis to return.

It’s soon after Harry hears the telltale sound of the kettle whistle that Louis returns with two yellow mugs of tea. He sits himself down on the cushion beside Harry, but the sofa is small enough that there is little distance between them.

It’s distracting to be sitting here beside an omega that smells good enough for Harry to eat, but he tries to focus on taking small sips of his tea, which is something that Louis clearly takes pride in. It’s Yorkshire, and Harry hasn’t had this tea in a while, and though he’s not a huge fan, he’d probably drink it every day for the rest of his life if Louis asked him to.

They sit there in a comfortable silence for a while, both drinking their tea and listening to the distant rush of late night cars speeding down the London street outside.

Harry isn’t quite sure how to break the silence delicately, so instead, he jumps in there in the most alpha way possible, throwing everything out there at once. Subtlety be damned.

“Why don’t you ever tell me anything about yourself?” Harry asks. He takes a large gulp of tea.

Louis’ legs are drawn up toward his body and he’s turned sideways on the sofa so he’s facing Harry, all while he clutches his mug of tea with both hands. He looks so fucking cute and tired, and the only thing Harry wants more than to wrap Louis up in his arms is for him to finally give Harry the answers that he’s been looking for.

“I know what my role is when I’m working,” Louis begins finally, giving a small resigned shrug. “It’s just the same as when I’m at the pub waiting on people. I’m there to provide a service, nothing more, nothing less. For most of the alphas I’ve slept with,” he says, and Harry swallows a growl at those words. “They just want me to help them sleep and then they want me to disappear in the morning like a one night stand so they can go back to their lives and go back to pretending that they don’t need anybody or anything. And that works just fine for me.”

Harry turns his body toward Louis, giving the omega his full attention. It’s the most Louis has said to him at one time, and Harry knows he’s not done. There’s a lot more this omega wants to say, and Harry plans to let him.

“So even when someone wants to get to know you, you won’t let them?” Harry asks, genuinely intrigued.

Louis laughs.

“You’re the only one who’s ever wanted to get to know me, Harry. That’s not the norm from my clients.”

Harry frowns at that. While he realizes that he may be particularly attracted to the omega in front of him because Louis matches his tastes perfectly, he also recognizes on an objective level that Louis is beautiful, clever, and kind, an absolute catch of an omega, and he finds it very hard to believe that Louis’ usual clients would be able to lay in bed next to him without falling over themselves to try and get something more.

“I find that very hard to believe,” Harry starts, but Louis just waves him off and sets his tea down on the coffee table.

“I didn’t say you’re the only one who wants to sleep with me,” Louis corrects, and Harry pinches his thigh to keep from reacting. “I just said you’re the only one who’s ever wanted to get to know me. Those two things are different.”

So all of Louis’ clients want to sleep with him. Harry expected it, but something about Louis’ confirmation leaves a bitter taste in Harry’s mouth, even though he knows that he has absolutely no claim over this omega.

“I don’t know about that,” Harry says, considering. He inches closer to Louis on his small, worn down sofa, and puts his hands on Louis’ knees, pushing his legs down a bit to lower the barrier between them. Louis lets him.

“There’s more than one way to get to know someone,” he adds, leaning in and cupping Louis’ face as gently as he can manage.

Louis just looks at him, and for a moment, Harry wonders if he misread the signs, but then the blue eyes in front of him slip closed. Harry takes one last deep inhale of vanilla and watermelon and then leans in, capturing Louis’ lips with his.

The way Louis reacts is so typically omega, his legs spreading so Harry can fall between them, his mouth opening to let Harry’s tongue begin its exploration, the soft shiver that overtakes his body as he’s overwhelmed. This omega is way too mysterious for Harry to be able to predict, but Harry’s incredibly pleased to feel him open up in this way now that Harry’s found a way in.

“You smell so good,” Harry groans, unable to help it when his hips thrust against Louis. Louis’ cheeks are flushed when Harry pulls away to give them both a chance to breathe, and Harry can’t help but brush his finger across one to feel the warmth there. Louis is pretty enough that it makes Harry’s heart ache, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever end up here after the first time they met, but Harry’s glad they’re getting this chance.

This is probably where it begins and ends, particularly because of how secretive the nature of their relationship is, but Harry’s going to make every moment of it count.

“So do you,” Louis says, and when Harry looks down at him, he looks like he surprised himself by allowing that reply to slip.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, voice deeper than it was even a moment ago. He’s going to take this omega apart piece by piece, and Louis is going to love every moment of it. Harry will make sure of it.

Louis rolls his eyes, breaking the moment, and Harry laughs and leans in again, kissing him harder.

They just lie there for a while, kissing hotly while Harry grinds his hips down against Louis’, but after a while, the friction isn’t enough for either of them.

“Bedroom,” Louis says finally, breaking another kiss, a line of saliva still trailing between their lips.

Harry nods and moves his kisses off Louis’ lips and down the side of his neck, inching toward where Louis’ bonding spot is. He smells best there, the vanilla and watermelon scents combining into the most intoxicating mix, and Harry can’t help but nip at the spot. Louis gasps out loud at that, his hands gripping at Harry’s shoulders.

Harry probably shouldn’t have done that, but it’s too late now. He kisses over the spot again, inhaling Louis’ scent deeply before finally pulling himself away, just enough that he can take Louis’ hand and pull him up off the sofa.

Harry pulls him up with enough force that Louis stumbles against him, but Harry steadies him easily, leaning down for one more kiss before turning and leading him toward where he assumes Louis’ bedroom is. He finds himself walking them down a short hallway with several doors, and Harry is just about to ask which one leads to Louis’ room, but he doesn’t even get the chance before Louis pushes him gently against the wall and lowers himself to his knees.

And that’s. That’s not what Harry expected, but he’s not going to complain when the omega’s hands start unbuttoning Harry’s belt and pull down his trousers and briefs in one solid motion. Harry’s too stunned to do more than let out a grunt when Louis immediately grabs the base of his cock and dives in, wrapping his lips around the head.

Harry’s received plenty of blowjobs in his life and he’s given plenty in return—some of them were even good—but no past experience has anything on what he’s feeling with this omega on his knees in front of him.

Louis’ hands move to hold onto the back of Harry’s thighs as he bobs up and down Harry’s cock, and it takes most of Harry’s restraint to avoid thrusting his way into the omega’s throat. Louis is just warming up, apparently, his tongue circling the head, but it doesn’t take long for him to start going deeper.

Harry knew he wanted something to happen tonight, and when Louis allowed Harry to come over, he knew Louis did too. Despite that, Harry definitely didn’t expect to be here, 20 minutes in, with Louis deep-throating his cock in the hallway.

“Holy fuck,” Harry says, and he’s slightly embarrassed by how close he is. If you ask any other omega Harry’s been with, they would say he usually has much better stamina than this.

Then again, how could he not be close? Louis is alternating between sucking the crown of Harry’s cock, moving far enough down that Harry can feel himself in Louis’ throat, and lavishing attention on Harry’s balls, which is a first for Harry, considering he’s found that most omegas he’s been with have ignored them completely.

When Harry looks down, he sees that Louis’ eyes are closed and there’s an almost angelic quality to his face right now, much like the one he has when he’s asleep. Or at least, there would be an angelic quality to his face if he didn’t have Harry’s huge cock in his mouth and if he weren’t sucking Harry off with a level of finesse that basically has Harry’s knees buckling.

“Fuck, Louis, I’m gonna—” Harry grunts out, close enough to coming that his knot would be popping right now if he were in Louis’ arse instead of his mouth. Harry can’t begin to predict whether Louis is a spit or swallow kind of omega, but he gets his answer when Louis pulls off his cock with a wet pop.

Harry almost feels disappointed for a second, which is ridiculous considering he just got a spectacular blowjob unprompted, but he quickly realizes that rather than backing off from Harry entirely, Louis is just sitting there a few inches from his cock, hands down, eyes closed, and mouth open.

 _Oh,_ Harry realizes.

With a shaking hand, he begins jerking himself off quickly. He’s trying not to seem overeager, but the reality is that he’s harder than he’s ever been in his life and he thinks he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t come in the next five seconds. When he finally feels his release beginning, Harry lets out a low groan and aims for Louis’ mouth.

Louis doesn’t even flinch when the come splatters on his chin, nose, and tongue, instead just sitting there patiently until Harry’s finished. Harry is panting, still in shock over what just happened, when he sees Louis finally open his eyes and bring his fingers up to his face to wipe the streaks of come that missed his mouth.

Harry’s cock throbs when Louis licks the remaining come right off his fingers.

Louis hums when he’s finished cleaning himself, but he doesn’t move, and Harry immediately realizes that his knees must be sore from where he’s perched on the hard wood floors. Harry’s alpha hates that, his instincts dictating that he needs to make his omega comfortable immediately, so Harry gently pulls Louis up from the floor. When Harry leans down to kiss him, the taste of come is still lingering on the omega’s lips.

“Can I?” Harry asks, pulling back after a moment. He doesn’t want another minute to go by without his omega— _this_ omega—being made to feel as good as he just made Harry feel.

Though Louis doesn’t know exactly what Harry’s asking, he nods frantically. Harry can smell the slick leaking out of him, and now that he’s had his own release, he has the brain space to really focus on how incredible it smells.

Harry quickly spins Louis around and pushes him up against the wall forcefully, using his larger body to cage the omega. Harry licks his neck near his bond spot, all the way from his shoulder up to his ear, and Louis just shivers and releases more slick.

With one hand keeping Louis pinned against the wall, Harry uses the other to yank down Louis jeans and underwear, both soaked through, and Louis whines when his wet bum and hard cock are finally exposed to the air.

“I’ve got you, omega,” Harry says, biting the shell of Louis’ ear, and Louis whines.

In one swift motion, Harry thrusts two of his fingers into Louis’ hole, offering just a small part of the relief he’s desperate for. Louis’ already staccato breaths quicken further as Harry fingers him, spreading his hole open and pushing the slick back inside from where it’s leaking. He’s so wet and smells so good, and Harry can already feel himself getting hard again. There’s no way he couldn’t when this omega is falling apart on his fingers.

When Louis starts letting out small sobs a few minutes later, Harry’s fingers still working their way inside him and rubbing against his prostate with every twist, Harry knows he’s ready.

“Yeah, Louis,” Harry says, reaching his other hand around to start jerking Louis of in time with the thrust of his fingers. “You can let go, c’mon, you sweet omega. Come for me.”

Harry’s body is still pinning Louis against the wall, but he’s hunched over slightly behind the omega to give him a better angle. Harry gives a hard nip into Louis’ shoulder blade through his shirt.

Apparently that small nip is all it takes to bring Louis over the edge, as the omega lets out one more whine before Harry feels his one hand wettened with another rush of slick while the other is splashed with Louis’ come.

Holy fuck.

Neither of them says anything for a while; instead, they stay poised against the wall, both panting as Harry helps keep Louis from collapsing into a heap on the floor. After a minute or so, Harry pulls his fingers out of Louis’ hole gently, trying not to cause him discomfort. Louis lets out a soft sigh.

Harry’s not sure what to do in the aftermath of this, particularly because he didn’t expect their night to progress so rapidly—he figured they’d make it to the bed, at least—but he doesn’t bother waiting for guidance. Instead, he turns Louis around and throws him over his shoulder, naked from the waist down and filthy with his own slick and come, and Louis lets out a shriek of surprise.

“Harry!” He cries out, slapping a hand against Harry’s back where he’s hanging upside down, but he’s laughing.

“I think we should sleep now,” Harry says, peaking in each door he passes as he attempts to find the bedroom. It only takes him two tries before he kicks the door to Louis’ bedroom open and drops him unceremoniously on the bed. Louis bounces slightly, and the glare he levels at Harry is almost worth more than the blowjob.

That’s an exaggeration, but still, it’s a very enjoyable glare

“You don’t even know how to sleep,” Louis says, and it’s so strange to hear someone confront Harry’s problems so directly and lightheartedly, free of judgment. It actually startles Harry into a laugh, and he immediately begins stripping off his remaining clothes. In the bed, Louis does the same with the shirt he’s still wearing, as it’s now smeared with come. He also uses it to unceremoniously clean some of the slick off his arse and thighs before throwing it in the corner of his bedroom.

When Harry’s fully naked, he crawls into bed beside Louis, wiggles his way under the sheets, and pulls Louis close without further invitation.

“That’s why I’ve got you,” Harry says, responding to Louis’ earlier accusation about his inability to sleep.

Louis looks like he wants to argue, and Harry supposes he thinks he looks intimidating. What Louis doesn’t realize is that he has a bit of dried come at the corner of his mouth, and that effectively kills any of the intimidation factor that wasn’t already killed by how small and sweet Louis is.

Thankfully, Louis seems tired enough that he reevaluates the prospect of arguing further and snuggles closer to Harry instead. It honestly feels a lot like every other night in Harry’s bed, except that this time, it’s just skin on skin.

Harry’s not sure what the morning will bring, and he knows he may have just ruined everything, but he feels so content at the moment that he can’t bring himself to worry about it quite yet.

Harry’s last thought before they fall asleep is that he could get used to this.

\--

When Harry wakes up in the morning, Louis has already left the bed, and Harry has a knot in the pit of his stomach when he goes off to search for him in the flat. He’s not sure whether he just ruined everything by giving into temptation last night, but he needs to just pull the trigger and find out. No use in prolonging the awkward conversation, however badly it may end.

After Harry’s cleaned himself up in the bathroom quickly, he finds Louis in the kitchen. The omega is bleary-eyed and holding another mug of tea.

He’s finally cleaned the come off his face.

Louis simply greets him with a “good morning” as if it were any other day. Then he prepares Harry another cuppa, which Harry doesn’t end up finishing, too caught up in conversation with the omega sitting next to him at the small white table.

They talk about the weather, how shitty Boris Johnson is, and even a little about Louis’ Psychology classes.

They don’t talk about anything else.

\--

“Heyyyyyy,” Harry says when Louis arrives at his house several days later, trying and failing to hold back a smile.

Louis looks lovely today, though that’s not a surprise. His hair is still wet and tousled from a shower, he’s got a gigantic jumper and trackies on, and his hands are hidden beneath his sleeves. He smells like his usual vanilla and watermelon and a bit like other alphas that he’s brushed by on his way here, probably, but as much as Harry’s instincts tell him to growl, he knows he’ll be able to cover their scent and replace it with his own in no time.

“Eh,” Louis says, not bothering to give a proper greeting. He drops the jacket in his hand on Harry’s kitchen table. It’s not hygienic, but Harry really can’t bring himself to give a damn. He’s only hooked up with this omega a few times now, but he’s already as whipped as can be.

“Ready to sleep?” Louis asks, looking up at Harry through his lashes.

“You have no idea,” Harry says. His voice has deepened and it’s not even intentional. His omega is here and he’s about to get the best damn sleep he’s gotten in days. What is there to complain about?

 _An_ omega is here, Harry corrects himself. Louis may be cute and small, he may be the sweetest-smelling omega Harry’s found on earth so far, and he may have a winning personality that makes Harry want to see him happy and loved forever, but he’s not actually Harry’s and he never will be.

It’s been harder and harder to remember that lately, now that they’ve blurred the lines between sleep and sex, but Harry needs to keep reminding himself. Nobody can ever know about Harry and Louis and nobody can ever know about their arrangement, and that’s not going to change anytime soon.

“Have you slept since I was last here?” Louis asks as he grabs Harry’s hand and pulls the alpha toward him. Louis doesn’t have the strength to move Harry unless he goes willingly, but Harry always goes willingly.

“An hour here and there,” Harry replies, silencing the shame that bubbles up in the pit of his stomach. They’ve been doing this for a little while now, but sometimes Harry still has to remind himself that Louis knows everything and doesn’t care that Harry can’t sleep without an omega there with him.

Louis tsks at that answer and reaches up, swiping his soft fingers under Harry’s eyes.

“Bags,” he says, and Harry raises his eyebrows. “Look at these bags under your eyes! And you’re supposed to be some hot sexy alpha popstar or whatever.”

“Supposed to be?” Harry says, grabbing Louis’ wrists and lowering them. He’s about to just let them go, but instead, Harry entwines his fingers with Louis’ so they’re holding hands. It’s one of the most innocent romantic gestures in the world, but Harry can feel his cock hardening. “There’s no ‘supposed to’ about it. I _am_ a hot sexy alpha popstar.”

Louis rolls his eyes and rips his hands out of Harry’s grasp. Harry watches, still half hard with butterflies flipping violently through his stomach, as Louis turns and makes his way out of the kitchen and toward the back staircase. His hips sway as he walks.

Harry wants to eat him in one bite, but there will be time for that later. For now, he follows him instead.

Louis leads Harry to his own bedroom like he owns the place, and he doesn’t wait for an invitation to go into the master bathroom to begin brushing his teeth. Harry gave him a toothbrush on his second visit, and now it’s a routine they enjoy together rather than Louis brushing his teeth before he arrives.

Louis won’t admit it, but Harry has a feeling he did that before their first night together because he was nervous and wanted to make a good impression. It makes Harry smile every time he thinks about it.

When Harry follows him into the bathroom, Louis’ lips are white with foam. He gives Harry a bright smile as Harry wets his own toothbrush, and though Harry is feeling particularly exhausted today, he can’t help but smile back.

“How were classes today?” Harry asks, mouth full.

Louis is more polite than Harry and waits until he’s spit the toothpaste out to answer.

“Good,” he says. “My dissertation is ruining my life, but it’s coming along nicely.”

Harry gives a foamy smile, spits out his own toothpaste, and pulls Louis into a hug before leaning down to kiss the omega’s forehead.

“And did you have to work at the pub today?” Harry asks, putting his hands on either side of the omega's shoulders and beginning to manhandle Louis into his bedroom.

“Four-hour shift after class,” Louis says. He lets Harry move him without protest, and Harry loves when Louis challenges him, but he also loves when Louis goes pliant and sweet like this. It’s nice when he just lets Harry have his way with him.

When Louis lays down on the bed, Harry spoons up behind him and scents him. After they started hooking up, Louis finally stopped wearing scent neutralizers over, probably figuring it was pointless at that point, and Harry’s grateful for that. If he thought he slept well the first time they were together, that has nothing on how well Harry sleeps when he has Louis’ full scent immersing his senses.

“We should have sex,” Harry whispers into Louis’ ear.

“We should definitely not have sex,” Louis says, but he wiggles his bum against Harry’s cock anyway. Unfair. “You’re tired, and so am I. We can have sex in the morning.”

Harry sighs. Sex in the morning is better than no sex at all, and if pressed, he supposes that he really is tired. Now that Louis is here and he’s laying down, Harry can already feel his eyes drooping.

“If you insist, baby,” he says.

Louis tenses in Harry's arms, but he’s asleep before he even realizes what he just said.

\--

So they hook up sometimes.

There’s no real structure to it and it’s not every time Louis comes over to help Harry sleep. Sometimes they fall together and sleep, and sometimes they fall together and have sex. They never talk about it. Harry thinks about bringing it up sometimes, but then he realizes that he doesn’t actually want to complicate this.

Things are good the way they are. Nobody knows that they’re sleeping together and nobody knows that they’re fucking. When they’re in the privacy of Harry’s bedroom, it’s just the two of them and nobody else. Who Harry and Louis are in the outside world—Harry as the alpha rockstar that turns every omega fan to mush, and Louis as the PhD student that works as a waiter on the side—those people cease to exist when they’re between the sheets.

When they’re together, they’re just Harry and Louis, an alpha and an omega, two people who sleep better together than apart.

Things are good.

Harry’s pretty sure things are good.

\--

After about a month and a half of sleeping together, Harry decides that he might as well give Louis a key to his place.

Now that they’re sleeping together fairly regularly, Louis has dropped all of the pretenses of professionalism that he struggled to maintain even on their first night together. On the one hand, that means Harry gets to hear much more about Louis and his life, with Louis sharing everything from his problems with his classes to the long phone conversations he has with his little sisters to the worst customers he has to deal with at the pub. Harry loves that Louis opens up to him because it’s all he’s wanted from him since they first met.

On the other hand, that means that Harry gets to deal with some of Louis’ less desirable qualities, which most notably includes the fact that he pretty much never shows up on time. Most days, he shows up between 15 minutes and an hour late, but then on certain rare occasions, he shows up early. He’s impossible to predict, and every time Harry mentions offhandedly that he is actually still paying Louis to show up on time, it only ever ends with Louis refusing to put out. That shuts Harry up real quick.

As Harry’s already noted, he’s whipped. He just can’t help it.

Since Harry never really knows when to expect Louis, he often finds himself in the middle of something when the omega does arrive. He’s halfway through a workout or is finishing making a meal, or he’s practicing the guitar chords from a new song while he waits for Louis to show up. If Louis has his own key, Harry will no longer have to drag himself away from whatever important task he’s engaged in to go answer the door.

It’s a convenience thing, really. That’s all.

Harry decides to give Louis the key on a Friday, and he can’t help but roll his eyes when he notices that it’s 20 minutes past when Louis was meant to arrive, but the omega is still nowhere to be found. He sits down at the piano he has in the corner of his living room to get some more work done on a ballad that he’s hoping to present to his co-writers, Jeff, and Kid in the next week or so. He wants it to be perfect before he shows them because he already knows Kid will pick it apart for being a sappy love song instead of a rocker anthem about short skirts or a song whining about being jealous of some woman’s new art gallery owner boyfriend.

Harry sighs in frustration even thinking about it.

Harry’s rewriting a line in the second verse when Louis finally knocks on his door, and Harry quickly closes his notebook and jogs over to let him in.

“Hey,” Louis says breathlessly, his nose pink from the wind.

“Hey,” Harry says, kissing him before he has a chance to get out of the doorway. He scents Louis quickly, calming down his own senses after a somewhat stressful day, and then wraps his arm around Louis’ shoulders to walk him to the kitchen. “I have a present for you.”

Louis drops his things on one of the kitchen chairs and drops his body into another one before eyeing Harry suspiciously.

“Is the present your knot?” Louis asks, leaning his head on his hands. Harry barks out a laugh.

“I mean, my knot is always your present,” Harry says, and Louis laughs. Harry knows he doesn't disagree with that particular statement. “But no, this is something else.” He reaches into the small dish where he dumps his keys when he gets home and holds up a brand new shiny gold key, dangling it from his fingers. He'd stuck a tiny pink bow on it earlier to add to the effect.

Louis’ eyes widen and he gets up, padding over to Harry.

“Is this to your place?” Louis asks when Harry hands it to him. He's wide-eyed like a kid on Christmas, and Harry finds it incredibly endearing.

Harry nods and leans down to kiss Louis’ cheek, and the omega bursts into a wide smile, pressing the key to his chest.

“Ever gotten your own key from a client before?” Harry asks, pulling Louis in and resting his hands on his bum, which almost immediately makes Louis slick up.

Louis’ face falls at the mention of "client," and for a second, Harry has a sinking feeling that maybe Louis does have keys to the homes of other clients, and maybe he slept with another client last night when Harry was at the studio late, and maybe—

Louis sighs and places the key on the table behind him before wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. He gets on his tiptoes to kiss Harry chastely on the mouth before lowering himself down and looking away. Harry can't quite read the emotion on his face, but it falls somewhere between disappointment and sadness.

“Do you want to know the answer to that question?” Louis asks, and Harry tightens his hold on Louis’ arse, a possessive gesture that he has no right to make.

“No,” Harry says, swallowing hard. This isn’t going the way he wanted it to go, but he supposes he has nobody to blame for that except himself. He’s the one that asked when he should've just shut up.

“Thank you for the key, Harry,” Louis says, voice sweetly honest, and Harry can’t help but break out into a dimpled smile. He almost screwed this up for a second, but he knows this gesture made the omega in his arms happy, and that matters.

“Now when you show up late for our sleep arrangement, you won’t be disturbing me,” Harry says with a smirk on his face.

Louis shoves Harry off him and laughs before reaching in to twist his nipple. Louis' heard about his lateness from a Harry a few too many times lately, and he no longer takes the complaints seriously. Suddenly, Louis starts to walk out of the kitchen, correctly assuming that Harry will be right behind him, and heads into the living room where he immediately turns on the TV. He doesn’t bother asking for permission, and Harry doesn’t bother giving it.

“The only thing that’s disturbed when I get here is your cock, alpha,” Louis says. Admittedly, Harry’s cock, which has indeed been interested since Louis arrived, only fattens further at Louis referring to him as alpha. “And that happens whether I let myself in or you have to get up to answer the door. All it takes is one whiff and you’re up for it.”

Harry shrugs. Louis’ not wrong.

“What can I say, baby,” he says, and Louis is turned away from Harry and examining his DVD collection, but he sees the omega stop moving for just a split second at the pet name. It would be imperceptible to most, but it's not to Harry. “Something about your scent, your bum, your face, your personality….it’s irresistible.”

Louis turns around and smiles.

“And don’t you forget it,” he says.

\--

They fall asleep on the sofa watching a film that night, Harry scrunched up on his too-short sofa and spooning Louis, who fits comfortably, from behind.

It’s still one of the best night’s of sleep he’s ever gotten.

\--

Harry wakes up late in the morning with a sore back, but otherwise feeling impressively well-rested. Louis is still asleep beside him, snuffling softly into Harry's arm, and Harry's cock is very interested.

It's hard (pun intended) for the alpha to resist getting an erection in Louis' presence in general, let alone when his cock is pressed up against Louis' bum all night. What Harry wants to do is close the small gap of space between them and nestle his cock between Louis' cheeks, maybe just rub up against him slowly until he gets off. Since Louis is asleep and that would be rude, what Harry actually does is wiggle his hips back slightly, putting some distance between himself and the small amount of slick that Louis is leaking in his sleep. He also tries to stop breathing through his nose in the hopes that inhaling less of Louis' scent will help with the problem.

It doesn't, of course. After all, Harry still has eyeballs and Louis is still laying right there in front of him looking like that.

Harry sighs and takes the arm that isn't being slept on by Louis and moves it down to his cock, shoving his joggers down just enough for it to pop out. If he can just do this quickly before Louis wakes up—

"Alpha," Louis mutters sleepily, and Harry freezes. He's not sure if Louis is asleep or awake, but he doesn't move just in case.

Louis clears his throat and turns slightly, blinking sleepily at Harry. So he's awake, then.

"Just," Louis says, and before Harry knows what's happening, he's reaching down to pull off the sleep shorts he's borrowed from Harry last night. Apparently, he decided not to wear underwear underneath.

Harry doesn't say anything, still frozen in place with his hand on his cock, but he waits while Louis shoves his hand beneath his own cheeks, gathering some of the leaking slick that's pooling there and spreading it between his thighs.

"Forgot to take my birth control yesterday," Louis says by way of explanation for why he's preparing his thighs to be fucked instead of just letting Harry in his arse like usual. Harry wishes he could say his cock didn't get even harder at that information, but that would be a lie.

When Louis' thighs are properly slicked, he turns sleepily toward Harry again just as he widens his legs slightly, lifting one thigh so there's just enough space between them that Harry's cock can fit. Harry's really not sure how he got lucky enough to find this omega, but he's grateful for it. He doesn't wait for further instruction, instead positioning his cock to fit between Louis' legs and pushing into the warm space there.

It feels good. Not as good as Louis' arse or mouth, as probably goes without saying, but it's wet and hot and tight, and Harry knows he will have absolutely no issue getting off this way. He holds Louis in place in front of him on the sofa with one hand as he thrusts in between his thighs, and Harry leans in to kiss Louis directly over his bonding spot. Louis gasps and pushes his bum back, giving Harry even more leverage to fuck his thighs, and Harry goes absolutely wild with it, grunting slightly and suckling at the spot that just made Louis react so strongly.

He's worked up enough that it only takes a few more minutes for him to come, shooting between Louis' thighs and probably onto the sofa, but it feels good enough that Harry doesn't give much thought to the prospect of his €2,000 sofa being covered in his own come. Louis rides him through it, pushing back and squeezing his thighs together just enough for to be tight around Harry's cock without being uncomfortable.

When his release is finished, Louis turns around to face Harry on the sofa. Harry sighs and leans up on one elbow so he can lean in and kiss his omega properly.

"Good morning," Louis says when they finally pull back, offering a sleepy smiling. Harry's the luckiest bastard on the planet.

"It's about to be," Harry says, yanking his joggers back up. In one swift motion, he manages to flip them so that Louis is on the inside of the sofa and then moves himself down to fit between Louis' legs. The omega looks confused and breathless at the motion, but Harry can also see that he's still very hard.

Louis is always so pliant first thing in the morning, so he lets Harry manhandle him until he's right where Harry needs him, sitting up slightly and leaning against the arm of the sofa. Harry positions himself between his thighs and without further hesitation, he swallows him down and pushes two fingers into his slick hole simultaneously.

Louis lets out squeak of surprise and pushes up into Harry's mouth before immediately pushing down onto Harry's fingers, too overwhelmed by sensations to know how to respond.

There's nothing Harry enjoys more than pleasing his omega, so he only sucks harder, twisting his fingers inside Louis until he finds his prostate. Louis is panting, but not making any other noises, so Harry takes a moment to glance up at him, and Louis meets his eyes. They're wet, tears streaming down his face, and Harry just rubs the pads of his fingers against Louis' prostate one more time while sucking Louis' cock as far down his throat as he can, and that's all it takes for Louis to come.

Harry swallows it all, marveling at how good every aspect of his omega tastes, and when Louis finally whines from oversensitivity, Harry pulls off and gently tugs his fingers free.

"Not the worst way to wake up, right?" Harry asks, crawling back up Louis' body so he can kiss him properly.

Louis laughs into the kiss and shakes his head.

"I'll say," he says.

\--

Louis ends up staying at Harry's place for the rest of the day. Harry's not in the mood to go to the studio, though he plans to work on some songs from home, and Louis just has studying to do. Louis runs home quickly to shower, change clothes, and grab his laptop, but he quickly returns so they can spend the day together. It's not often that Louis and Harry see each other much during daylight hours, so they make the most of it, both working on their respective tasks while joking, laughing, and chatting quietly in between.

Harry cooks them both dinner around 6PM, a meatball and pasta dish that Harry's been perfecting for years, and they both drink some wine with dinner. It feels very domestic to Harry in a way that he enjoys a little too much, and Harry reminds himself that they probably shouldn't do things like this very often in order to avoid either of them catching feelings. That's the last thing Harry wants.

After dinner, they watch a couple of episodes of Black Mirror on Netflix and eventually decide to retire to bed, as Louis had been planning to come over and sleep there tonight anyway.

They're both just laying in bed with their hands entwined, neither talking nor making any effort to go brush their teeth or turn the lights off, when Harry sees Louis frown.

"What's wrong?" He asks, immediately concerned.

“I forgot to put my bracelet on after I went home and showered,” Louis says calmly. His eyes are on his wrist, but he’s not frowning anymore.

“Y’alright?” Harry asks, sitting up in the bed and rubbing a gentle hand on Louis’ stomach. “Do you want to go home and get it? I can drive you or call you a car if you want.”

Louis sighs and stretches, his shirt riding up a bit and ensuring that Harry’s hand on his stomach starts touching skin instead of fabric. Harry clears his throat. The way he reacts to Louis is probably embarrassing, but he can't help it.

“I’m fine,” Louis replies. And Harry won’t pretend to be a mind reader, but Louis does look fine. The outfit he changed into when he went home earlier consists of fluffy socks, boxers, and an overworn hoodie that he definitely stole from Harry’s closet last Friday while Harry was making them a snack. His legs are bent and his toes are curled in the blankets, which makes something in Harry stir. He wants to make them curl for reasons other than comfort, just like he did earlier today, but he's getting distracted from the point of the conversation.

“Just wanna make sure you feel safe,” Harry says, laying back down and pulling Louis toward him. Louis moves easily and lays his head on Harry’s chest, sniffing into Harry’s shirt and prompting Harry to strip it off his body so they have more skin on skin contact.

“Always feel safe with you,” Louis mumbles. Harry feels his heart skip a beat.

He’s not sure why the words are affecting him like this. Of course Louis trusts Harry. They’ve been doing this for a couple of months now and Harry has never scared Louis or done anything that Louis has tell him to stop doing (except maybe teasing or throwing him over his shoulder, sometimes, but Louis isn't serious in those instances), let alone anything that might prompt him to trigger his bracelet. Harry is friends with enough omegas, Niall and Sarah included, and they don’t feel unsafe around him. Harry hopes that’s true for every omega he meets, but for some reason, hearing Louis say the words out loud is making Harry feel something more.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, his voice more affected than he'd care to admit.

Louis mumbles nonsense against Harry’s chest, clearly too tired for conversation, and Harry can feel his warm breath.

It makes him break out in goosebumps.

“Alright, baby,” Harry mutters, so softly that he's not sure Louis can even hear him. “Let’s sleep.”

In the back of his mind, he notes how ironic it is that Louis is the one falling asleep before him when Louis is there for the sole purpose of helping Harry sleep, but it only makes him happy. Though he realizes on some level that the basis of their arrangement is a service that Louis is providing him, he can’t help but feel grateful that Louis has reached a comfort level where they’re equal partners in this relationship, or whatever the right word for it might be.

 _Not a relationship,”_ Harry reminds himself. Definitely not a relationship.

Once Louis’ breathing has evened out, it doesn’t take long for Harry to follow him into bliss. Harry falls asleep with Louis’ head on his chest, his hand resting low on Louis’ back, feeling more content than ever.

\--

On a Saturday afternoon, Niall texts Harry to let him know that he’s in town again and suggests that they get together. There’s a Manchester United match the following weekend and Harry managed to get access to a VIP box thanks to some of Jeff’s connections, so he figures he might as well invite Niall to come along. “You should invite Zayn, Liam, and Louis,” Harry says as casually as he can, though he’s not sure that he’s successful considering the snort Niall lets out in response.

The day of the match dawns bright and chilly, and Harry meets up with the lads right outside Old Trafford.

It’s nice to see Liam, Zayn, and Niall, of course, but there’s still nothing quite like seeing Louis outside in the real world. He’s wearing light-wash boyfriend jeans and a jumper that looks about five sizes too big. He looks disgustingly cuddlable, and Harry has to gather his hands into fists to resist pulling him in to do just that.

“Hey Liam, Zayn,” Harry says, nodding toward them both. “Louis.”

When their eyes meet, Harry’s stomach still flips, and he’s not sure why that is, especially now that they’ve been sleeping together for a while. There’s just something about seeing Louis like this that drives Harry crazy, and the fact that he isn’t able to touch him or express how he feels just adds to the feeling.

“And hello to you too, Niall,” Niall says sarcastically, looking between Louis and Harry, who are both gazing at each other with small smiles on their faces.

Harry jumps slightly, startled out of his staring, and he turns his attention toward the other omega.

“Didn’t see you there, Niall,” Harry jokes, pulling his friend in for a quick hug. Niall laughs and punches him lightly in the side, which of course makes Harry feign a serious injury just for the sake of dramatics. They all roll their eyes and laugh, and then Harry’s proposes: “Shall we go in?”

It’s obvious that none of the boys have been in a VIP box before and Harry only has once before, so they all spend a few minutes just taking it in. A young beta takes their orders of several pints, hot dogs, and crisps, and Harry can already tell that he’s going to eat too much and drink too much today, but that sounds like exactly what he needs.

While they wait for their food and drinks to arrive, Harry sits down next to Niall. He wants to sit down next to Louis, if he’s being honest with himself, but he knows the other boys are already suspicious that he has a crush, and he knows it wouldn’t take much more of his unsubtle behavior for them to catch on to the fact that it’s something more than that.

“How’s writing and recording going?” Niall asks, and Harry grimaces.

“Not great,” he says, ignoring the match that’s beginning below them. “That producer you met last time you visited—Kid, the bleach blonde,” he explains, and Niall’s face lights up with recognition. “He’s horrible. He’s got a vision for my album that I don’t agree with at all, and I’ve struggled so much with inspiration since I started writing for this record that it’s not easy to argue with him unless I want to piss the label off.”

Niall looks sympathetic to that, and Harry knows he’s had his own struggles with his label, what with him being an omega with the outrageous expectation of equal treatment and all that.

“I’ve gone through times where I struggled with my songwriting,” Niall explains. “Do you think there’s a reason for it, or do you think it's just a temporary funk?”

“I’m uh, not really sure,” Harry says, though he’s almost completely sure that his songwriting funk stemmed from stress over Kid and his label's vision for his second album and lack of sleep, particularly since the former issue only made the latter worse. Harry's pretty sure he wouldn't have realized any of that if not for his conversations with Louis. “But I’ve actually been feeling pretty inspired over the last month or so,” he adds.

Harry tries not to look over at Louis, who is unknowingly the reason for this current bout of inspiration. It was like the second Louis started helping Harry get sleep, he found himself with an endless pool of ideas for songs and melodies. And sure, some of them also happen to involve mentions of blue eyes and the taste of watermelon, but that’s just the kind of organic inspiration that comes out of nowhere when you start feeling well-rested.

Or at least, that’s what Harry keeps telling himself.

“That’s awesome, mate,” Niall says happily, reaching over to pat Harry’s knee.

Harry’s not sure what motivates him to do it, but right as Niall touches him, he glances over at Louis. His timing couldn't be better, apparently, because he gets to see his sweet omega glaring daggers at Niall’s hand. Harry smirks just as Louis looks up and sees that Harry caught him staring, and as soon as he does, Louis schools his face back into a neutral expression. It reminds Harry of what he did the first night they met, but Harry’s on to him.

Niall is still talking, something about how sometimes you just need a positive environment to make the best music you can, but Harry’s no longer listening. He’s still smirking over at Louis, who seems to be ignoring Liam the same way Harry's ignoring Niall. The alpha looks like he’s in the middle of explaining a interesting story to Louis, elaborate hand gestures and all, but Louis doesn’t look like he’s listening at all.

Harry is about to finally break his gaze away from Louis, still preening over the fact that Louis is jealous of Harry’s interaction with another omega, even if that omega is Niall, but then he sees Louis lean in to whisper something in Liam’s ear. The omega puts his hand on Liam’s muscular arm as he does it, and suddenly Harry’s no longer smiling.

If that alpha doesn’t step away from Louis in the next three seconds, Harry’s not afraid to—

“Jesus Christ,” an exasperated voice says, and Harry snaps his attention back to Niall.

Niall is looking between Louis and Harry with a disgusted look on his face, and Harry feels like he’s been caught out.

“Just go over and talk to Louis, you fucking knothead,” Niall says, just loudly enough for all the boys to hear. Even Zayn, who’s been reading a book instead of watching the match or talking to the others, looks up with his eyebrows raised.

“Wait, what?” Harry exclaims, voice more high-pitched than it’s ever been in his life. “I mean, don't get me wrong, Louis is great, just like Zayn and Liam, but I’m not interested in him—in any of them—like that,” Harry says in a surprisingly fast string of words, and he glances over at Louis just in time to see his face harden.

Harry feels like he’s digging himself a hole here, but he’s not quite sure how to stop now that he’s started. If the boys find out that Louis and Harry are interested in each other, he feels like it’s only a matter of time before they figure out that they’ve hooked up before, and if they find out that they’ve hooked up before, they might find out that they met before Niall introduced them, all because Harry hired Louis to help him sleep.

It’s all a bit twisted in Harry’s head and he knows it probably sounds unlikely if you were to say it out loud (which he is definitely not doing anytime soon), but the truth is that none of this was part of the plan.

Harry just wanted to be able to sleep, and then when he got a sleeping partner as incredible as Louis, he wasn’t able to resist pushing for more. And he enjoys what he has with Louis—admittedly, it’s one of the only things that seems to get Harry through the day sometimes—but it was never meant to become more than that.

One of these days, Harry knows that he is going to release this album and go on tour, and Louis will stay in London and continue with his other clients and eventually get his PhD and become a brilliant psychologist. And nobody will ever know that Harry once hired him so he could sleep, or that Louis blew him in the hallway, or that Harry gave him a key, or that they started spending as much time fucking and cuddling as they did actually sleeping.

Nobody will ever know any of that because if they did, Harry's deepest fears and weaknesses would be exposed.

Sometime in the near future, Harry and Louis will end their arrangement. Harry will continue living his bachelor alpha lifestyle on tour with slick omegas in the front row every night, and Louis will move on with his life as well. That’s what makes the most sense for both of them, and Harry’s not going to screw it up now.

“I mean, I’m sure Louis is great,” Harry adds, lowering his voice enough that Zayn and Liam both lose interest in Niall’s outburst and turn their attention back toward their book and the match, respectively. When Harry chances another glance in Liam and Louis’ direction, he sees that Louis is no longer holding onto Liam’s arm. His arms are folded against his chest instead, and Harry can smell Louis’ unhappiness from across the box.

Liam can smell it too, clearly, as he leans in to whisper something to Louis and gives him a hug.

“But I have no interest in being with an omega long-term. I’m a rockstar, remember?” Harry asks, laughing. It sounds robotic and harsh even to his own ears, but Niall just shrugs noncommittally.

“If you insist,” he says, already moving on from the conversation. Harry breathes a sigh of relief, but he can still smell Louis’ unhappiness, and that bothers him.

Harry finally turns his attention back toward the match, unsure of what else to do, and very soon after he does, one of the Man U players scores. Niall and Liam immediately burst out of their seats, yelling excitedly, and Louis up stands too, but his heart isn’t in it. When Harry looks over at him, his nostrils flared to take in the omega's sad scent, he’s huddled in on himself, shoulders hunched and face drawn.

Harry knows that he fucked this up, but he doesn’t understand what Louis expected him to do. Their arrangement, or whatever it is they have, is a secret for both of them. Louis knows that, and so Louis should know that Harry said what he said to Louis because it was in both of their best interest in the long-term.

Harry sighs and does his best to focus on the match.

\--

An hour and two pints later, Harry is finally more enthralled with the match than with scenting his omega over and over, hoping for a change in his mood, and of course, that’s when Louis chooses to get up to use the bathroom. Harry sees it out of the corner of his eye and waits for a minute or two before getting up to follow him out.

Once outside the small bathroom they have for people in the VIP sections of the stadium, Harry checks in both directions and looks behind him to ensure that the coast is clear before entering the bathroom himself.

Louis is washing his hands when Harry enters, but he looks up at the sound of the door.

“Hey, baby,” Harry says gently, walking over to the omega and touching his wrist before he even has the chance to dry his hands. “I know you're upset, and I want to apologize for earlier,” he explains, rubbing gently at Louis’ fragile wrist bone.

Louis sighs and then shakes his head.

“I’m not upset with you, Harry,” Louis says, but he still smells off. Harry trusts his nose under most circumstances, but especially when it comes to this omega right here. All Harry’s alpha wants to do is soothe him, but he’s not going to be able to do that if Louis doesn’t tell him why he’s unhappy.

Harry leans in and holds Louis’ face in his hands, treating him as gently as he would a porcelain doll. Louis holds his gaze for just a few seconds before he breaks eye contact and sighs heavily.

Harry kisses him, desperate to make his scent return to normal, anything to make his omega feel better. It only works a little, an undercurrent of sadness still in the air, but Louis kisses him back just as desperately, opening his mouth up for Harry’s tongue without hesitation and letting Harry nip frantically at his lips.

He feels very small and breakable in Harry’s arms, and Harry usually loves how much smaller Louis is than him, but he doesn’t love when Louis feels like this. Fragile and unhappy.

“I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing,” Harry says when he pulls away. “I just know that we both agreed to hide this, all of it, and I know how obvious I am about everything, so I’m just trying not to ruin our arrangement, or my career, or your relationships, or—

Louis cuts him off with a kiss.

“It’s fine,” Louis says. “I just…I guess it’s just weird how thoroughly you shut down the idea of me being your omega. I don’t really get why that thought is so unbearable to you.”

Harry’s eyes widen at that. It’s not that Harry doesn’t want Louis for an omega. Anyone would be lucky to have Louis as their omega, and sure, the thought of some other knothead alpha having Louis makes Harry’s blood boil, but that’s just because they have a thing going on right now. It’s not meant to be something permanent, and they’re both going to have to move on at some point. That was always how this was going to end.

“Louis, please,” Harry says, leaning in to kiss Louis again. “It’s not that at all. Anyone would be lucky to have you as an omega. I’m just not in the right place in my life for that, or at least, I’m not if I want to keep my fans.”

“Adam Levine is—” Louis starts, but Harry cuts him off.

“I’m not Adam fucking Levine, Louis,” Harry says, and he mostly feels exasperated, confused, and sad, but the words come out angry. “You knew that our sleeping arrangement was meant to be a secret from the very beginning—it’s why you signed an NDA. You wanted it to be a secret too, considering you haven't even told people that you make money this way. And when we started having sex, I know that was probably a bad move on both our parts, but it happened and we can’t take it back now.”

Harry runs a hand over his face in frustration.

“All I know is that I love spending time with you and I love being friends with you and I love fucking you and I love sleeping with you, but I still have an image to maintain and you do too,” Harry says. “If people found out about how we met, and trust me, fans would find it out, it would ruin me. Most of my fanbase is made up of omegas who want to sleep with me, and none of them are going to fight to be first row at a show for an alpha who’s so useless he can’t even sleep, let alone one who’s washed-up at 26 with a long-term relationship.” Harry laughs bitterly.

“So no matter how amazing you are, no matter how lucky I would be to be your alpha,” Harry says, swallowing hard. “That doesn’t change anything. We can have the time we have in my bedroom every night, but we’re never going to be able to have something more than friendship out here. You know we can’t. ”

Louis looks stunned into silence, and quite frankly, Harry himself is surprised at his outburst. He just wanted today to be a fun time for all of them, but it ended up being a mess, and Harry can really only blame himself. He made Louis unhappy and that makes him unhappy, and now he's only making it worse when he should be fixing it.

Harry really is a useless alpha.

Louis looks like he has a lot he wants to say, but instead, he settles for gently pushing Harry away from him.

“Fine,” Louis says finally, and Harry can tell that it is very much not fine. “I get it. I’m going to go out to watch the rest of the match now. I won’t push this topic again, but at some point, you should probably wake up and realize what’s staring you in the face. The only person that’s holding you back and judging you for your weaknesses, whether it's the insomnia or the ridiculous weakness that is actually just letting yourself fall in love with someone...the only person holding you back and judging you for those things is you.”

With that, Louis turns and leaves the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Harry sighs helplessly, mind spinning over Louis’ words. He looks at himself in the mirror above the sinks and sighs.

If pressed, Harry might admit that there’s a tiny voice in the deepest recesses of his mind that is telling him that what he’s doing is ruining the best thing that’s ever happened to him. However, the louder voice—the voice telling him how weak and pathetic he is and how he’s going to screw up his career if he becomes anything other than the perfect bachelor alpha rockstar that his label told him to be—that voice echoes through Harry’s head on a daily basis, drowning the tiny voice out.

Harry splashes some cold water on his face before returning to watch the rest of the match. Despite Harry’s best attempts to get his attention, Louis doesn’t look at him again until it’s time for them to leave. He’s scheduled to help Harry sleep tonight, and Harry offers to let him off the hook if he doesn’t want to be around Harry right now, what with their fight and everything, but Louis follows Harry into his car after the other boys have left anyway.

They don’t say anything else to each other about what happened, but Harry pulls Louis in for a hug when they get home. They stand there for over ten minutes, just holding each other.

Louis clings to Harry particularly fiercely that night, his hands clutched in Harry’s t-shirt, a small unhappy frown on his face, even in his sleep.

Harry tries not to think about why.

\--

Harry’s rut is approaching. Even if he didn’t have it marked on his calendar, he would probably be able to tell by the way his temper has growing shorter with each passing day this week.

By Thursday evening, he’s close to a breaking point, the aggression bubbling just beneath the surface, and he’s trying not to take it out on anyone, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult. Particularly when it comes to certain people.

“These songs are overly sappy,” Kid says, gesturing with his hands as he talks. “Your last album was much more appealing to your fanbase than this. The lyrics you’re putting out make it sound like you’re some loved up middle-aged man who got his knot cut off by his wife when he got married. I really think if you just listen to the guidance of some co-writers, or maybe if you just take these songs that were written for yo—

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Harry says angrily, getting to his feet. He cannot believe the nerve of this piss-poor excuse for an alpha who seriously thinks he can come into Harry’s studio and tell him what music should be on his album.

“See that,” Harry says, pointing over toward the far wall where his platinum record award hangs. “And see those,” he says, pointing over at the shelf filled with various music awards. “Do you see the names on those?”

The aggression in Harry’s voice is blatant at this point, and it sucks the air right out of the room.

“Why don’t you read me the name on those, Kid?” Harry asks in the most condescending tone possible, and Kid flinches. So much for being an alpha.

“Harry Styles,” Kid spits out bitterly. “But if you think that you’re going to achieve half of that success with your second album if it’s filled with songs about how in love you are with someone, you’re in for a rude awakening. That shit doesn’t sell from a mid-20s alpha rockstar. Not even a little bit.”

Harry swallows hard and takes a deep breath. He really shouldn’t have come in today, not with his rut just a few days away, but he can’t go back in time now. He just has to deal with it and try not to strangle Kid with his bare hands.

“Get out of my sight,” Harry says. “I’m not writing or singing another goddamn word until you get the hell out of my studio.” Harry crosses his arms over his chest, intentionally emphasizing how much bigger and stronger he is than Kid, but Kid just rolls his eyes and laughs.

“Can’t wait ‘til the label hears about this,” Kid says, and Harry is so sick of this pathetic bastard acting like he has more power than Harry in his own career just because he has connections to the label.

Harry glares at him while he puts his coat on and walks out without another word.

There’s a level of annoyance thrumming through Harry’s veins now that he just can’t shake, not even so he can continue working on his songs by himself, so he gathers his things and drives himself home. It’s not until about an hour later when Harry is beating the shit out of a punching bag in his home gym that he looks down and realizes that he’s hard.

Of course. As if Harry didn't have enough other things to deal with, his rut is here in full force a couple of days early.

Harry is about to start wanking himself off right there in the gym, but then he remembers that Louis was meant to come over to sleep tonight. Harry was planning on telling him then that he wouldn’t need Louis for a few days while he was in rut, since that’s the one time when he actually doesn’t have issues sleeping. At least, not once he’s fucked someone half to death or wanked himself to the point of chafing. Harry winces at the thought.

If Harry’s being honest, however, the more important reason why he doesn’t want Louis there for his rut is because he’s starting to realize that he and Louis are both in this thing too deep, and them spending Harry’s rut together will only make it worse.

It’s not that Harry thinks he would bond Louis during it—no matter how deep Harry’s in his head during his rut, he would never do that without Louis’ consent and without consideration for it beforehand—but he knows there’s a level of aggression and intimacy to that sexual experience that he’s not sure Louis will be able walk away from. He’s not sure he’d be able to either, even if he wouldn't be able to remember most of it.

The time Harry and Louis spend together is fun, but after their argument at Old Trafford, Harry sees warning signs flashing in his head that are meant to remind him that this isn’t forever. He needs to stop doing things that make him ignore those signs, and he knows spending his rut with Louis would fit into that category.

Harry runs up the stairs to text Louis and quickly finds his phone on the kitchen counter.

When Harry unlocks his phone, the first thing he sees is a photo of Louis flipping off the camera that Louis set as his wallpaper a couple of weeks ago when Harry had to pee. Harry’s just far enough into his rut that even just seeing the picture makes him press a hand against the front of his gym shorts. He lets out a frustrated groan as soon as his hand makes contact with his hard cock, fully recognizing that Louis does things to him that are beyond comprehension.

 _Focus,_ Harry thinks to himself. _You need to text Louis._

He reluctantly drags his hand away from his crotch so he can type the message out quickly with both hands.

**_Hey Lou. I know it’s last minute, but I’ve gone into rut early so you don’t have to come over tonight. I’ll text you when I come out of it. Talk to you soon. xx_ **

As soon as Harry’s seen that the text has gone through, he powers off his phone to avoid doing anything embarrassing like calling Louis and waxing poetic over his hole and slick while Harry is in the thick of it.

He would never be able to live that down.

Harry cock is hard enough that it’s starting to become painful and he wants nothing more than to jerk off right here in the kitchen, much like he wanted to jerk off in the gym, but first he needs to eat something and prepare some snacks and drinks so he won’t come out of this in two days feeling like a dead man walking.

Harry hasn’t spent a rut by himself since he was a teenager, as he usually just finds a recent one-night stand or fling to spend it with, so he’s rarely had to think about the logistics of these things—usually the omega he’s with will sort it out for both of them.

First he walks over to the fridge, hand back to rubbing his cock through his pants, and pulls out several large water bottles that will provide essential hydration during the worst of it. Harry knows he’s going to be too busy humping his own bed to even think much about food over the next couple of days, even with the granola bars and fruit he plans on bringing to his room, so he also takes a few minutes to prepare himself a turkey sandwich that he can eat now before he slips into it fully.

Harry is just finishing up his sandwich and is breathing harshly through his nose, desperate to take the edge off, when he hears the distant sound of his front door opening. Harry immediately finds himself in a defensive posture, but it doesn’t take long for his nose to catch up to his ears. He smells vanilla and watermelon.

 _Louis._ Louis, who has a key to Harry’s house. Louis, who Harry just texted telling him not to come over.

What is he doing here?

Harry is too stunned by this development to even think about getting up, so he chooses to stay seated at his kitchen table instead. His cock has only gotten harder since he caught a whiff of Louis’ scent, and if Harry doesn’t fuck his hand or someone else within the next ten minutes, he can’t be held responsible for his behavior.

“H?” Louis asks as he approaches the kitchen, searching for Harry. “Sorry I’m a bit early!”

Harry should probably demonstrate some restraint, but he can’t help it when his omega is approaching and when his omega smells that fucking good. By the time Louis enters the kitchen, Harry’s already pulled his cock out and is tugging at it, grunting slightly at how good the friction feels.

When Louis walks into the room, his nose is scrunched up like he’s smelling something, and it’s pretty obvious from the wide-eyed look on his face that the something he’s smelling is Harry.

“Fuck,” Louis says in a small voice, his voice forming a small O shape, and Harry groans. Why does everything this omega does have to be such a turn-on? This is the last thing he needs right now.

“I texted you,” Harry says. His voice is even deeper than usual and he's still not able to stop jerking himself off. This is definitely rude of him, but he’s too far gone to care.

Louis looks like he doesn’t want to tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him, already wiggling around like he always does when he wants Harry to have his way with him, but he finally glances down and pulls his phone out of his pocket. Harry twists his wrist on the upstroke, groaning and throwing his head back at how good that feels, just as a look of understanding comes across Louis’ face.

“You’re in rut,” Louis says slowly, eyes on Harry’s cock. Harry nods. “And you want me to leave…but why?”

Harry lets go of his cock and hisses at the loss of friction. He’s thinking with his knot too much to have a real conversation right now, but if he doesn’t explain, Louis won’t leave and everything between them will become even messier than it already is.

“I,” Harry says, panting. “I don’t know.” He does know, but his brain is already foggy and he’s seeing red because his omega is right here in front of him, ripe for the taking, but he’s still fully clothed.

Suddenly, Harry doesn’t care what reasons he had a few minutes ago.

Louis is here, and Harry wants him.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Harry says quickly, and he’s so close to the edge that he squeezes the base of his cock, not wanting the first time he gets off during this rut to be like this. “If you don’t want to be here for this, please just—you can go, Lou, just go now, okay, baby?”

Harry voice is thick as gravel, and he can smell Louis’ slick, and he really, really needs this omega to get out of here if he’s not going to let Harry fuck him. Harry feels like he’s losing his mind.

“Hold on,” Louis says, dropping the backpack he has on. Louis looks down at his phone again. “I’ve just got to tell my dissertation advisor that I need to reschedule tomorrow’s check-in,” he adds as he starts frantically typing in his phone.

It only takes a minute, but it feels like ages, and Harry’s already getting up by the time Louis is putting his phone down on the counter, the message having sent successfully.

“Are y’sure?” Harry asks, though he’s already peeling his shirt off as he approaches Louis.

Thankfully, Louis just nods frantically and starts pulling off his own jacket. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Harry waits patiently for as long as it takes for him to do that, but then he decides he's going to take matters into his own hands. Louis is wearing the ripped Rolling Stones shirt that Harry was wearing the first night they met, and Harry doesn’t think twice before using those rips to his advantage by ripping the entire shirt right off Louis’ body.

Louis gives him a shocked look, but Harry can smell more slick rushing out of him, and Harry makes quick work of pulling Louis’ trousers down. When his omega is finally fully naked, slick already dripping on the kitchen floor, Harry groans. He can’t believe he seriously thought he could do this alone.

“Table,” Harry grunts out, and Louis seems to be on the same wavelength as Harry, even when he's in this state, because he immediately scrambles forward and bends over the kitchen table.

He’s presenting himself to his alpha fully, and Harry’s never seen a sight more beautiful than that. He follows Louis over to the table and pushes his omega’s back down gently until his stomach is fully resting on the wood, arms spread out on the table above him, cock trapped between his body and the piece of furniture in a way that must be giving him a lovely amount of friction.

“Omega,” he says, voice deeper than Louis' probably ever heard it, and with only that as warning, he positions himself behind Louis and with a single thrust, buries himself in to the hilt. Louis is so wet and warm, slick pouring out of him as his alpha takes what he needs from him, and Harry could cry with how good this relief feels.

He fucks Louis with a vigor that he can only ever achieve when he’s on his rut, though he's quite impressive on a normal day, but the distant part of Harry’s brain that still has thoughts and emotions beyond “my omega” and “fuck” ensures that Harry still pays attention to what his omega needs, even as he works toward his release.

When Louis wiggles uncomfortably because the friction on his cock is too overwhelming, Harry lets him up so he can brace himself on his arms on the table instead of laying down completely. When he realizes that he’s being particularly rough, he soothes a hand down Louis’ stomach or back, depending on what part of the body Harry is grasping to hold the omega in position. Though he’s used to his entire focus on his rut being on his own release, Harry finds himself reaching for Louis’ cock and jerking him off in time with his thrusts.

The drumbeat of Harry's rut is beating loudly in his ears at the exact pace of his rabbiting thrusts, but Harry isn’t listening to that, or at least, not completely. He’s also listening to every sound coming out of the omega beneath him—every hitch of breath, every whimper, every whine, and every moan.

Harry drinks all those sounds in, and they feed him as he approaches his release.

“Lou, Lou, omega, Lou, baby, I’m—” Harry groans, overwhelmed, and he feels Louis respond to his pleas by clenching down tightly on his cock.

Between that and another rush of slick wetting Harry’s cock where it’s inside Louis, he can’t hold off on his orgasm any longer. His knot begins to expand, and Harry pushes it forward into Louis’ body, locking them together as he lets out a loud groan. Louis is usually the louder one during sex, but when Harry’s in his rut, he can’t help it. Everything in his body is centered on sex and his omega, and he has no interest in controlling his noises.

Louis comes as soon as Harry’s knot locks inside him and he starts being pumped full, and Harry hears it splatter on his kitchen table. He licks desperately at Louis’ bond spot, tasting the sweat and smelling the overwhelming vanilla and watermelon scent there. When he’s finally finished emptying himself inside Louis, he moves them away from the table and lowers Louis gently into his lap as he settles on the floor up against the wall, the two of them still locked together.

They sit there for an hour or so, Louis leaning back against Harry’s chest while remaining impaled on his cock, and just breathe together. Louis occasionally reaches back and wipes Harry’s sweaty curls off his forehead, and Harry sucks at Louis’ neck, marking his territory.

The screaming red that overtakes Harry’s mind during rut has calmed somewhat now that he's popped his first knot, but Harry knows he’ll be fucking Louis half to death for the next two days. It’s not over yet, not even close, and Harry knows he’ll be completely out of it again soon after his knot goes down.

“Omega,” Harry says quietly, running his fingers down Louis’ sweaty stomach.

“Yeah, alpha,” Louis says. He squeezes Harry’s knee soothingly, an intentional reassurance that he's okay, and Harry’s so lucky to have an omega who knows just how to take care of him.

“I don’t think your other clients will like these marks,” he says. He’s may be in a calmer state of his rut for the time-being, but he can still feel the jealousy and aggressive alpha energy just under the surface.

He’s not sure why he’s saying it or what it is that he wants to hear from Louis, but just for this moment, he wants Louis to know he’s Harry’s, just as much as Harry is his. It’s not something Harry will admit to himself or to Louis at any other time, but here, when his emotional state is so raw and primal, he can’t deny it.

“I don’t have any other clients, Harry,” Louis says, sighing. He turns his head and looks at Harry with sad eyes. “I told them to stop giving me any other clients pretty soon after I started working with you. I didn't want to sleep with any other alphas.”

“I don’t want you to sleep with any other alphas either,” Harry says, and there’s a roaring of relief in his chest.

This is _his_ omega. Louis belongs to himself and to Harry and to nobody else, and that’s never going to change. Harry won’t let it.

When Harry’s knot finally deflates enough for him to slip out of Louis, he picks up the omega and carries him bridal style to his bedroom and then returns to the kitchen to get the snacks and water he had planned to bring in earlier. Harry can already feel the drumbeat of his rut coming back to the surface, but he wants to make sure his omega is up for more of this before he allows it to overtake him fully once more.

When Harry returns, Louis is splayed out on his bed like an invitation, which is exactly what he intended it to be. Harry groans and the drumbeat gets louder, his cock fattening up again.

“Omega,” Harry says disapprovingly as he climbs back into the bed, but he's not really disapproving.

“Alpha,” Louis says, mocking his tone. He knows Harry too well. Harry can’t help but dive in and bite at his lips, licking into Louis’ mouth until he can’t tell where his saliva ends and Louis’ begins.

“Don’t know how I got so lucky with you, baby,” Harry says, cock hard and already ready for more. “I love you so much.”

The words come out without any thought from Harry, just slipping off the tongue. He doesn't realize he's said them either, the drumbeat back to its full crescendo, drowning out any normal thoughts. Instead, he just hitches Louis’ thigh up to his waist and pushes in, but not before he sees the look of pure happiness on Louis’ face.

And with that, Harry allows his rut to fully overtake him once more.

\--

When Harry wakes a day and a half later, the first thing that comes into his consciousness is the fact that Louis is there beside him, as the smell of vanilla and especially watermelon overtakes Harry's nose. The second thing that comes into his consciousness is how sore he is. His thighs, glutes, and arms are all aching from how much effort he put into fucking Louis, and Harry doesn't really remember Louis arriving or deciding to stay, but the overwhelming feeling of satisfaction he feels makes him grateful for it.

He certainly wouldn't be feeling this way if he just had to hump his bed for two days.

Harry sees that Louis is covered in hickeys and fingershaped bruises, and there's a possibility that he would be concerned that he was too rough, but there's a blissful smile on the omega's face while he sleeps.

Harry gently nudges his shoulder to try to wake him, figuring it's way overdue that the two of them have a proper meal. He wants to make sure his omega eats first, especially after he was so good to Harry the last few days while the alpha was probably a total mess of aggression and desire.

When Louis' eyes open and he sees Harry sitting up beside him, a bright smile comes over his face.

"Is it over, alpha?" Louis asks, and Harry's stomach flips at that. He nods.

"I think so," he says. "Thank you so much for doing this, Lou. You really didn't have to, but I know you probably made things much easier on me, so I really appreciate it."

Louis frowns slightly, confused, but then he sits up and smacks a kiss on Harry's lips.

"Of course, alpha," he says, and now it's Harry's turn to frown. Why is Louis still calling him that?

Harry scratches his neck awkwardly.

"So obviously, you know that like," Harry pauses and tries to think about how to best word this. "You know how much you mean to me and you know how much I appreciate you being here for my rut, but this doesn't change anything for us, right?" Harry looks at Louis hopefully.

Louis' face falls immediately, and Harry hates himself for making his omega look like that, but then the sadness and disappointment on Louis' face are quickly replaced by a deep frown.

"I can't fucking believe you," Louis says, and he sounds angry, but he also just sounds exhausted. "Or actually, yes, I can. I should've seen this coming and I was a fucking idiot not to, but I won't be that anymore. I'm not a stupid omega, I'm not someone's bitch, I'm not someone's fuck toy, and I'm not someone who can be dragged around and led on you're doing to me. So Harry, I'm done. I'm fucking done."

Harry's mouth gapes open, but Louis doesn't watch his reaction. Instead, he gets up and grabs his clothing from where it's folded messily in the corner near the bathroom door (Louis' attempt at cleaning while Harry was still in rut mode, clearly) and starts pulling on his trousers and shirt. He pulls his shirt on inside out, and it's something that Louis and Harry would normally laugh about, but there's something so heartbreaking about watching it now. It just shows Harry how desperate Louis is to get away from him.

Harry knew Louis wouldn't be happy about what he said, but he also didn't expect this strong of a reaction, and he feels off-kilter, like he's missing an important part of the story. But he doesn't remember anything that's happened since he first realized he was going into rut down in the gym—nothing except quick flashes of pleasure and happiness—so he doesn't understand this overreaction at all.

"Please, Louis, can you just wait and talk to me," Harry begs, getting up off the bed and pulling on a pair of boxer briefs that he finds on the floor. His omega is leaving him right after his rut and he feels like he's being ripped apart.

"No, Harry," Louis says, sighing. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that this is enough for me when it's not. It hasn't been for a long time, and I kept hoping but...I'm done with that now."

Harry just looks at Louis wordlessly. He doesn't know what Louis wants or needs from him, so he doesn't know what to say.

This is where we exist, Harry," Louis says angrily. "This is the only place we exist." He gestures wildly around the room, and Harry takes in his surroundings with more clarity than he did when he first woke up. His lace comforter has been pulled down, the sheets are messy and rumpled and covered in spots of come and slick, but Harry can't help but feel like it looks more inviting than ever.

Harry wishes desperately that they were still in the bed instead of fighting like this.

“What are you even saying?” Harry says after taking one more longing look at the bed. Harry feels angry to an extent, but he mostly just feels exasperated because his omega is yelling at him and he doesn’t understand why.

“We only exist in this bedroom, in this bed," Louis says, and he's crying now. "In the space between your private life and your public life. That is the only place we have ever really existed because I’ve got one foot in both of your worlds—the world you’re in when you’re outside and playing the bad boy alpha rockstar who doesn’t give a fuck about any one omega and has no problems and no weaknesses, and the world you’re in when you come in here and finally admit that you need help sometimes, and you need to rely on somebody else sometimes, and you need your fucking omega sometimes. And I’m fucking tired, Harry,” Louis says.

In that moment, it's like the fight leaves his body, like the puppeteer dropped his strings, and Louis just sinks in on himself.

All Harry wants to do is lift him back up, but he knows that’s not what Louis wants right now. Instead, Harry just balls his hands in fists, feeling useless and alone even as Louis is standing right there in front of him.

“I’m tired of straddling the line,” Louis whispers. “I’m tired of always being in the space between and nowhere else. This isn’t what I want. Not anymore.”

For some reason, that’s the sentence that breaks Harry. In the last few months, the truth is that Louis has become the center of Harry's universe without him even realizing it. And Harry knows that he hasn't given Louis exactly what he wants, but he wishes Louis would just understand where he's coming from instead of just giving up.

“Then go,” he finds himself saying. His voice is hard and he feels the muscle in his jaw twitch.

“What?” Louis asks. His eyes are wet and he sounds devastated.

“You’re not my omega and I’m not your alpha. This situation got overly complicated when we met outside of this room, but this is all it was meant to be. You helped me sleep and I’m grateful. But if this isn’t enough for you, then it’s probably time for us to end this and move on. I don’t need this anymore.”

It’s not true. It’s not even close to being true, but Harry feels like his heart was just shredded and he doesn’t know how to tell Louis that. He doesn’t know how to take back the mistakes he’s made. All he knows how to do is this.

Louis looks down and lets out a wet chuckle.

"Goodbye, Harry Styles," he says. "I hope you find what you're looking for, but when you do, I think you'll find that you already lost it."

Louis wipes the tears off his face and shakes his head in disbelief, letting out a small bitter laugh.

Then the omega turns and walks out of Harry's life.

\--

Days pass, and Harry goes on living.

He goes to the studio and writes and records songs. He goes out with his friends to bars and drinks until he can't feel anything. He visits his mum and sister and listens to them talk about their lives while telling them nothing about his own. He goes shopping for outfits that he thinks would be cool to wear on tour and meets with his stylist to get them fitted. He performs his gigs every weekend to thousands of screaming fans.

He eats, he drinks, he breathes. He even sleeps, sometimes, but not well.

He spends most of his time thinking about Louis. He knows it's not healthy and that he needs to move on in the same way that he kept telling himself he would need to move on back when they were together. It's difficult though, not only because he's starting to realize that his feelings for Louis reach deeper than he was willing to admit to himself, but also because he feels so lost as to what happened the day Louis left.

Harry feels like he missed a step on a staircase he was meant to be climbing with Louis.

And he doesn't know how to get it back.

\--

It's another studio night and Harry wants to record a song he wrote in the last few days, tentatively titled Falling. He's feeling good about it, or at least, he's feeling as good as you can feel about a song that you wrote about losing the most important person in your life and your entire life going to shit.

Harry arrives to the studio slightly later than usual because he was feeling too lethargic to drag his arse out of bed, and when he arrives, Mitch and Adam are there, preparing to lay down their parts of the song, and Jeff and Kid are talking in the corner, clearly waiting for Harry to arrive.

Jeff has a nervous look on his face when Harry walks in, and Harry immediately tenses his shoulders in preparation for whatever bullshit is coming next. He can't say he's surprised when Kid starts talking.

"So about this song," Kid says, and Harry wants to murder him. Alpha to alpha, he wants to brawl right here in his studio, right in front of these betas and fellow alpha Adam. Harry hopes they'd at least root for him. He's pretty sure they would. "I don't think it's going to work with your image. Between the sappy love songs and the heartbreak ballad, you're really not appealing to your fans, who just want to listen to fun music about sex and rock & roll. I was talking to the Rob earlier, you know, from the label, and—"

Harry inhales deeply and then exhales.

"You're fired," he says.

He squares up his posture as he says it, straightening from his usual slouch and widening his shoulders and legs to make it clear who the real alpha here is. It turns out, Kid's comment all those weeks back about there only being room for one knot in the studio was correct. And that knot is Harry's.

Kid's mouth snaps closed, and Jeff's face goes ashen.

"Listen, H," Jeff begins, stepping in between the two alphas. Harry can hear Adam and Mitch snickering behind him.

"I'm done listening," Harry says smoothly. His voice is dangerously steady. "I'm done with all of this. I'm going to make the album that I want to make, and you know why you're going to let me? You're going to let me because I have those fans, every last one of them, wrapped around my finger. You've seen the shows. You've seen the reactions. You've seen the sales. You've seen the hits. You've seen the streams."

Jeff swallows, and Harry knows he can't argue with that.

"I will call the label tomorrow and talk to Rob personally about why it's in his best interest to let me make the album that I want to make. And if he wants a producer that he chooses involved, I'm fine with that. But it's not going to be this bleach blonde egomaniac," he says, gesturing toward Kid, who looks like he's been slapped. "It's going to be someone who respects my vision and respects that at the end of the day, he answers to me."

"Fuck you," Kid says, and Harry barks out a laugh.

"The only one getting fucked here is you," Harry replies in a perfectly polite tone. "Now get out of my studio before I have you removed by police for trespassing."

Kid's face is bright red and he looks like he wants nothing more than to kick Harry's arse, but he's a smart enough guy to take the threat seriously. He turns, grabs his coat, and disappears out the door without another word, leaving nothing but the scent of his pathetic alpha rage behind.

As soon as he's gone, Mitch and Adam applaud, which makes Harry laugh. Jeff, however, still looks like he's about to projectile vomit all over Harry's nice studio space.

Harry reaches out and grasps both of Jeff's shoulders.

"If the album doesn't sell well, they can drop me from the label and I'll never breathe a negative word about it to anyone for as long as I live. I'll sign something saying that tomorrow if they want me to. But Jeff," Harry says. "I know it's going to sell well. I think you know it too. You need to trust me on this."

Jeff still looks like he's about to take a trip to his therapist's office, but he nods shakily. And the next day, after a two-hour call with Rob Stringer and several other people at the label, Harry has the permission he needs to put out an album full of sappy love songs and heartbreak ballads. It wasn't easy, but he did it.

Harry feels like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders. He sleeps for eight hours straight that night, waking up feeling genuinely rested for the first time in more than a week.

Still, all Harry can really think about is how he wants to share his good news with Louis.

But he can't.

\--

Harry’s felt off all day. He can’t really describe why because there’s nothing explicitly wrong with him—he’s tired, having stayed up late recording Falling the night before, but he's been more tired than this plenty of times before. Overall, there is nothing about his physical or mental health that he can pinpoint as the root of this feeling.

Harry spends the day running errands and tidying up his home, desperate to feel like he’s accomplishing something, but nothing he does all day helps him to shake the feeling.

By the time the show rolls around, a muscle in Harry’s jawline is tense and his forehead is marred with a frown. He feels vaguely detached from everything going on around him and wanders around the backstage area aimlessly as his band prepares to go onstage. He watches them get dressed, prepare their instruments, and apply deodorant in preparation for the heavy sweating they’re about to be doing...

And he feels like there is something he needs to do as well, but he doesn’t know what.

Jeff is there, back in town after a few days away on a family vacation, and he keeps giving Harry concerned looks. It reminds Harry a lot of how Jeff looked at him before Louis, before these last few months of bliss, and Harry wants to wave him off, but he doesn’t know if he can. Not when he feels this lost without knowing why.

Harry doesn’t get properly dressed until about five minutes before he goes on, and by that point, every member of his band has started sharing Jeff’s concerned looks. Harry pulls on a pair of dress pants, a halfway buttoned glittery blue shirt, and suspenders, and he loves this merman outfit, but it still doesn’t snap him into performance mode.

It seems like nothing will, but Harry knows he has to push on.

“Let’s do this,” Harry says, still pretending not to notice the looks from his bandmates. In two hours, this performance will be over and he’ll be able to head home and curl up in his bed until his next studio session.

It’s fine. He can handle this.

Once they're out on stage, Harry launches into Kiwi, the opening song of their set. The scream of the crowd helps pull Harry in for a moment, allowing him to forget about the bewilderment and feeling of wrongness he’s experienced all day, but it doesn't last very long.

As he and the crowd yell the words “I’m having your baby!” at each other in tandem, Harry suddenly thinks of Louis.

Something about the word "baby" triggers a hazy memory in Harry's mind, and Harry continues singing along to his song, but his mind is racing a mile a minute as he tries to grasp onto the memory from where it's just out of reach.

"It's none of your business," the crowd shouts, and Harry's grasps it.

_“Don’t know how I got so lucky with you, baby,” Harry says, cock hard and already ready for more. “I love you so much.”_

Harry told Louis he loved him during his rut. The second he remembers that moment, several more memories from that two-day period come flashing back through his mind. Louis' confession that he'd dropped all other clients. Harry admitting to himself that he's Louis's alpha, and that Louis is his omega. And most importantly, the memory that was triggered first—Harry told Louis he loved him. Harry doesn't think Louis ever said it back, probably because he was being fucked too hard to be able to form words, but it doesn't matter.

Harry knows Louis loves him, just as Harry knows that Louis is his omega. It's a truth that's been staring him in the face the entire time, just as Louis said, and he was just too afraid to look back. No wonder Louis had been so devastated by Harry trying to go back to minimizing their relationship as soon as his rut was over. He thought he'd finally made progress with Harry, and Harry just tore it all away.

Harry fucked up so badly, and now he needs to figure out how to fix it.

They launch into the chorus again, and Harry's about to sing along with the crowd, but something stops him.

He gasps, suddenly, and that’s when the missing piece that he’s been searching for all day slides into place. Louis. Louis is the reason Harry’s felt off, and Harry is onstage right now, but he knows in the deepest recesses of his body that this isn’t where he needs to be. He needs to be with Louis. Maybe that sounds crazy, but after the week he's had, he doesn't care. He knows what he needs to do.

As the band launches into the second song of their set, Harry’s mind is still on Louis, but he’s singing along with the lyrics out of pure muscle memory. He knows he can’t go any further though.

“I,” Harry begins, and it takes a few seconds for everyone in the crowd to realize that he’s talking rather than singing along with the words. It takes even longer for Harry’s band to recognize that they’re playing along with a tune that Harry is no longer following.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry continues, and the drums have stopped now, the bass too, and Mitch is playing out a small tune on the guitar, but it’s getting softer and softer with every passing second. “I’m so sorry to interrupt the show and I promise I will make this up to everyone here, but I—I think there’s somewhere else I need to be.”

Harry can see the confusion on the fans’ faces, particularly the group of omegas in the front two rows. He’s not sure what the consequences of this interruption and announcement will be, not on his career and not on him personally, but he also can’t bring himself to care about that. This is something he needs to do, and he’s doing it.

“My omega needs me,” Harry says into the mic, eyes wide.

And he does. Harry knows it—he doesn’t know why he knows it, and he doesn’t know how, but he feels this way because of Louis and there’s no more time to waste. He needs to get to his omega and give him whatever he needs.

That’s all that matters right now.

The crowd has been shocked into silence momentarily, but it doesn’t take long for the whispers to start as the crowd absorbs Harry’s words and realizes that for the first time ever, alpha rockstar Harry Styles has admitted not only to having an omega, but to the fact that he’s willing to drop everything for him. It’s a lot for them to take in.

Harry doesn’t stick around to watch the reactions of a room full of omegas and betas, some of whom hoped, perhaps naively, that maybe one day they would have a chance with the larger-than-life figure onstage in front of them. They probably did have a chance, at one point, but it was a chance for a one night stand, maybe even a fling, but nothing even close to how he feels about Louis. None of these people were ever going to be Harry’s omega.

That position was only ever reserved for Louis, and even after screwing everything up, Harry knows it always will be.

He turns and tosses the mic to Mitch, who catches it even as he stares at Harry with wide eyes and an open mouth. And then as Harry disappears into the darkness just offstage, he hears something that he never could’ve predicted after making an abrupt exit from a performance with such a vague explanation.

Cheers. The thunderous roar of cheering, excited shrieks, and pure joy.

Harry’s very well attuned to this sound, having heard it during every performance since he first began his career, but he’s never heard it under circumstances like this. The crowd is excited not because Harry is performing for them or because they’re attracted to him. They’re cheering because their favorite artist went onstage and told them that the person he loves most in this world, his omega, needs him. They’re cheering because for the first time, Harry Styles admitted his weakness and embraced it.

They’re cheering because they love him and they support the people that he loves.

Harry feels so fucking lucky, and he can’t help the breathless smile that overtakes his face.

He makes it into the back room quickly and his body is running on autopilot as he gathers up his keys and other belongings. Jeff is there typing something on his laptop, and it takes a moment for his brain to register that Harry is there with him and preparing to leave the venue rather than performing.

“Wait,” Jeff says when the realization dawns on him. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Harry nods, stuffing the pair of white trainers he wore to the venue into his bag.

“Louis needs me,” he says by way of explanation. “And I’ve got to go.”

Jeff frowns and looks like he’s going to say something at first, but he holds himself back. Harry can tell from a single glance that Jeff’s mind is probably trying to process what’s happening quickly, but he seems to reach the right conclusion in the end. Louis is Harry’s omega and Harry might not know what’s going on with him yet, but he needs to be there with him. He needs to be there with him right now.

There’s not really anything more for Jeff to understand except that.

Jeff nods, finally.

“Okay,” he says, and Harry feels a wild burst of affection for the man sitting there that he hasn’t felt since the earliest days of his career, back when Jeff made him feel like he had a chance, back way before the mess with Kid and the pressures from the label and the exhaustion that almost derailed Harry’s entire life. “I’ll make sure everyone here gets refunds and we’ll book a replacement show, maybe for sometime next week.”

Harry smiles and throws his packed bag on his shoulder before walking toward the door.

“Perfect,” he says, turning back toward Jeff. “Thank you.”

There’s more weight behind those words than Harry cares to admit. Harry fully realizes that he would’ve never met his omega if not for Jeff, and that’s not something he’ll ever be able to properly thank him for, let alone forget.

“Of course,” Jeff says, and there’s a tone of pride in his voice that Harry’s never heard before. Not pride in himself, which Harry’s heard plenty, but a sense of pride for Harry.

Harry knows that there is probably a long conversation with Jeff that needs to happen at some point soon, particularly after this stunt, but he can’t be bothered to worry about it now.

His omega is waiting for him.

\--

Harry’s only been to Louis’ flat the one time and he hadn’t even driven himself there, but he has no problem remembering the way. Every shift of the steering wheel and press of his white boot to the gas pedal feels like his body moving in autopilot. He can’t think about the road in front of him or even what he just did—all he can think about is the fact that the distance between himself and his omega is closing, and that’s what matters.

When he arrives, Harry can see the lights are lit up in Louis’ flat. He parks quickly and efficiently on the side of the road and locks his car behind him, walking briskly up the path that leads to Louis’ door. He probably looks ridiculous in his stage outfit and heeled boots, and he doesn’t miss the confused look that a woman gives him as she exits the yellow door at the front of the building.

Harry slips through the open door behind her, not bothering to try and buzz himself in.

Harry takes the stairs two at a time to Louis’ flat, and he’s only on the second of the three flights when a scent stops him in his tracks. Harry’s smelled Louis without any suppressants several times by now, but those times had absolutely nothing on this. Harry is not even close to Louis right now, but the smell of vanilla and watermelon is so strong that Harry’s mouth begins watering. He starts climbing the steps even faster.

By the time Harry’s reached Louis’ door, he’s panting harshly and huffing breath through his nostrils, desperate to soak up every last bit of Louis’ scent that he can. He didn’t realize how much he missed it until now, and the strength of it is overwhelming enough that Harry feels slightly out of control.

It infuriates Harry that other people can probably smell it and he wants nothing more than to burst through Louis’ flat door and make it clear that he’s the only one who gets to scent Louis for the rest of his life, but Harry doesn’t want to scare him, and Harry wants to give him the chance to say no. He can’t really bear the thought of that possibility, but he forces himself to recognize it as he pants outside his omega’s door.

When he finally feels like he’s gathered himself enough that he won’t do anything too aggressive or make a move that he regrets, he lifts his fist to knock on Louis’ door. Almost immediately, he hears a whine from inside, and even after having reined himself in, Harry can’t help but let out a growl at the sound.

It only takes a few seconds for the door to open, and then Louis is in front of him.

He’s pale and sweaty standing there, and if Harry couldn’t smell him, he might think that he was actually ill. As it is, however, Harry realizes immediately that Louis is in the early stages of heat.

“Baby,” Harry says breathlessly, and Louis whines again.

Harry doesn’t hesitate to step in the doorway without invitation. He immediately slams the door behind him, not wanting Louis to be at risk of some other alpha bounding up the stairs and trying to force themselves on him when he’s at his most vulnerable. Admittedly, Harry might not be the alpha Louis wants right now, but at least Harry knows that he’ll never hurt Louis and will never do anything that Louis doesn’t fully consent to.

“Alpha,” Louis says, and Harry’s heart skips a beat. _Alpha._ He’s alpha.

Harry’s hands are in two closed fists to stop him from reaching out and touching Louis before it’s time, and he vaguely registers that he’s already hard. He’s probably been hard since he got out of the car and his body started to realize what was going on and why his omega needed him even before his mind and nose caught up.

“Yes, baby, I’m here,” Harry says, and Louis throws himself forward, wrapping his arms around Harry.

Since he initiated the contact, Harry allows himself to hug Louis back, and when Louis sags against him, Harry holds him up easily to prevent them both from falling to the ground. Louis feels like he’s burning up, his skin damp, and he’s dressed in nothing but an old t-shirt of Harry’s (another one that Harry didn’t even realize he’d stolen until now) and a pair of shorts that are too big and falling off his hips. As Harry hugs Louis back, he glances down his omega’s backside and sees that the back of the shorts are wet with slick.

“I need you,” Louis whines against Harry’s throat, mouthing hotly there, and Harry shivers.

Harry lowers his hands from Louis’ lower back to his bum, still breathing Louis’ soft scent in deeply. Louis doesn’t require further prompting and immediately allows Harry to lift him off the ground. He wraps his legs around Harry’s hips, and Harry uses one hand to hold him up by the bum while the other runs smoothly down Louis’ back, comforting him.

“Let’s go to your room, okay, baby?” Harry asks, brushing a kiss to Louis’ sweaty cheek.

Louis nods, still hiding his face against Harry’s neck. Harry can feel his hard cock grinding slightly into Harry’s abdomen as he walks them toward Louis’ room, and he grits his teeth to keep from responding.

Louis’ room is somewhat of a disaster zone, and Harry can tell he’s spent most of the day in here nesting. There are several articles of Harry’s clothing strewn about the bed and the sheets and blankets are messy, as though Louis has been rolling around in them for hours. There is also a half empty water bottle on the night stand and at least one streak of slick on the sheets already.

Harry’s internal alpha is distressed by the state of the room because it doesn’t seem well-equipped enough for his omega to deal with a heat, let alone a heat that he clearly planned to spend by himself. Rather than place Louis down on the bed as he originally intended, Harry shoves some items on top of his dresser over and sits Louis there instead.

Louis’ eyes are glassy and wet as he pants harshly, but he can’t seem to tear them away from Harry.

Harry takes a step back and Louis whines again, but this time it’s with unhappiness rather than desperation. It’s the most heartbreaking sound Harry’s ever heard in his life, and he never wants to hear it again after this.

“Omega,” Harry says, stepping toward him once more. “I’m here and as long as you want me to stay here, I’m not leaving, okay?” Harry puts his hands on Louis’ face gently and leans down to kiss him on the forehead. “You’re in heat, aren’t you?” It’s an obvious question, but Harry wants to make sure Louis is fully aware of what’s happening before he’s willing to do anything else.

Louis nods and wipes the back of his hand across his damp forehead.

“Yes,” Louis says. “I’ve known my heat was coming for days and I wanted to text you, but I didn’t know how to say—”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, interrupting him. “You don’t have anything to explain or apologize for. You were right. I was falling in love with you this entire time, I was making you my omega in every way except the ones that really count, and I expected you to just go along with it. You didn’t deserve that, Louis, and I’m so sorry.”

Louis’ wet mouth drops open and his eyes are still glassy, but Harry can see them clear enough that he knows Louis is fully taking in his words and their meaning.

“You’re my alpha,” Louis says hopelessly, and he reaches out to wrap his hands around Harry’s suspenders.

“If you’ll still have me,” Harry says, exhaling a sigh of relief. “I love you, Louis. You’re my omega, you have been since the second you showed up in my house to help me sleep. I was afraid to be anything other than what I’d always been—an alpha rockstar who doesn’t need anybody, doesn’t need help…and you were right about everything you said. You got inside me the same way that I got inside you—”

Louis raises an eyebrow, and Harry can’t help but roll his eyes at the way his omega acts even while his body is being overridden by heat and he’s listening to someone confess their love and eternal devotion to him.

“Maybe not the _same_ way that I got inside you, but you know what I mean. We’re a part of each other now. And I can’t take back how I acted or how I made you feel, but…baby, I swear that I will spend the rest of my life loving you and serving you and being here for you. I’m your alpha. That’s all I ever want to be.”

Louis’ eyes are wet, and Harry knows his body is probably on fire right now, but Louis leans forward and pulls Harry down for a kiss anyway. They’re both hard and Louis is soaked with his own slick, but the kiss feels like the most pure and domestic thing in the world. It makes Harry’s heart twist in his chest.

“I love you, alpha,” Louis says when he breaks away. “I’m always going to be here for you.”

Harry kisses his slick mouth again and slips in a little tongue, getting re-accustomed to the taste of the man he’s missed so much for the past week or so. Louis tastes even better than he remembers, and Harry’s pretty sure he’s never going to be able to fully adjust to having this omega as his. Harry feels like the luckiest bastard on earth, and he knows he’s going to feel even luckier by the end the night.

“You’re not gonna leave again?” Harry asks, kissing Louis’ affectionately on the nose.

“Only if you deserve it,” Louis says, laughing breathlessly, but Harry knows that on some level, he’s serious. Harry can’t get this wrong again. He can’t let his omega slip through his fingers again because he gets too caught up in his own head and his own image and his own bullshit. Their relationship is more than that, and Harry will never let himself forget that again. Not for anything, not for anyone.

Harry gulps and kisses Louis again, not quite sure how to put how he feels in words.

“You won’t deserve it, Harry,” Louis says. “We’re in this together now.”

He’s remarkably composed despite the fact that with every passing moment, he’s inching closer to full-blown heat. It’s infuriating, really, that Louis always manages to be two steps ahead of Harry, but Harry knows he’s going to be spending the rest of his life following this omega wherever he wants to go.

Luckily, Harry’s an alpha who loves a challenge.

“Do you want me to help you through your heat?” Harry asks, and it might be a ridiculous question considering the conversation that just passed between them, but Harry needs to be absolutely certain.

Louis laughs, but he’s wiggling around where Harry set him on the dresser, and Harry can tell that he’s getting more and more uncomfortable and won’t be able to hold a regular conversation soon.

“Alpha,” Louis says, and hearing him say that takes Harry’s breath away. He wonders if it will forever. “If you don’t help me through my heat and bond me tonight, I’m going to kick your fucking arse.”

Harry lets out a honking laugh at that and Louis’ smile widens further.

“I’d love to see you try,” Harry says, and Louis gives him a light slap on the chest. “Okay, baby, I’m going to help you through your heat, but I want to get your room ready first, okay?”

Louis nods and lets out another small whine, this one involuntary. Harry watches as he reaches into his shorts to touch himself, and it takes every bit of strength in Harry’s body to walk away frpm him so he can prepare his omega’s space for heat properly. Harry neatens up the bed and changes the sheets, though he supposes that’s a pointless endeavor.

Within just a couple of minutes, he can see that Louis is starting to reach behind himself, and Harry feels like he moves at superspeed when he runs to the kitchen to grab several bottles of water and some granola bars.

When he returns to the bedroom, Louis has moved himself to the bed and is already rubbing himself against the bed desperately for some friction, but it seems like he’s waiting for his alpha before he does anything else. Harry stands in the doorway with the water and snacks for a moment, storing this imagine to his memory and spank bank forever, but the second Louis lets out another desperate whine and tugs his shorts down, Harry’s never moved faster.

He leaves the food and water on the bedside table and yanks off his boots, throwing them carelessly across the room as though they didn’t cost €2,000 and take six months for Harry’s stylist to acquire. Harry knows it might be better etiquette for him to take Louis’ clothes off first, but since his are more complicated, he takes just a few extra seconds to rip off the suspenders, pants, and shirt, leaving him to crawl into bed in nothing but his boxer briefs.

“Alright, baby?” Harry asks, but he already knows the answer.

Louis is sweating even more now, his shorts are off, his shirt is soaked through, and he has two fingers inside himself as he sprawls back on the bed, eyes closed. He smells so good that Harry feels absolutely ravenous, and he takes that as a cue that it’s time for him to clean up some of the slick leaking out of Louis in the best way he knows how.

Harry presses a quick kiss to Louis’ lips, helps him twist out of his sweaty t-shirt, and then turns him over gently. His hands move to Louis’ hips and he pulls him so he’s positioned arse up, and Harry positions himself right behind him.

Louis immediately starts swaying his bum in Harry’s face, too desperate for it to have any sense of shame, and Harry doesn’t plan on making him wait another minute for relief. Instead, he dives his face right between Louis’ cheeks and starts lapping hungrily at the buildup of slick there, still leaking out like it’s a never-ending well.

Louis always tastes amazing, but this is on another level, and Harry’s not sure how he’s supposed to just go back to the real world after he’s tasted something this sweet. Louis is panting so hard while Harry makes work of cleaning him up that he can’t even seem to make proper noise; instead, he keeps letting out short breathy whines that Harry wouldn’t be able to hear if he weren’t so in tune with his omega.

Harry licks his way up and down Louis’ crack and nips at his bum where some of the slick got smeared while he was still wearing his shorts. He also doesn’t hesitate to put a hickey on both cheeks, marking his territory for the first time. Louis will probably kill him if he looks in the mirror and notices those, but getting to see the marks makes it all worth it.

After Harry’s cleaned most of the surrounding area with his tongue, he finally dives into Louis’ hole, swiping his tongue in and out in a way that makes Louis let out a full body shiver despite the overwhelming heat.

He could do this all day, quite frankly, but Harry’s cock already feels like it’s threatening to burst where it’s still tucked into Harry’s boxer briefs, and Harry can feel that Louis is reaching a level of heat where he needs more relief than a tongue can provide.

“Okay?” Harry asks again, and Louis glances back at him from where he’s leaning on both elbows. His eyes are still glassy and it takes him a moment to focus on Harry’s face, but when he does, he lets out the sweetest and most content smile that Harry’s ever seen.

“Alpha,” Louis says, and Harry knows that means he’s okay.

Harry uses one big hand to spread Louis’ cheeks apart enough to grant himself better access to Louis’ hole and then thrusts his pointer and middle fingers in at once, appreciating how easily they slide with the heavy rush of slick.

Louis immediately gasps and collapses in on himself, unable to hold himself up any longer, and Harry’s good reflexes come in handy as he moves the hand spreading Louis’ cheeks to hold his omega’s hips up while he fingers him. Harry continues thrusting the two fingers in and out, moving them as much as he can to brush against Louis’ prostate.

Louis is letting out little “uh, uh,” noises, and Harry feels a bit smug at how far gone he seems. Of course, Louis would be this far gone into heat even without Harry here, but Harry knows that Louis would be uncomfortable and restless, trying desperately to make a toy replace a knot. Now that Harry’s here, Louis will never need to replace a knot again.

Louis is open enough that he doesn’t need further fingering, so when Louis gasps out a little “please,” Harry immediately yanks down his shorts and grabs hold of his own cock. He hisses when his hand makes contact, his cock hard and colored a dark angry red, knot looking like it could expand at any moment, just as soon as it has a hole to expand in. Harry wants to cry, that’s how good it already feels, and he knows it’s about to get even better.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, baby,” Harry says, getting up on his knees behind Louis and holding the omega up by his hips with one strong hand while he positions his cock at Louis’ hole with the other. “I’ve got you, omega.”

Harry sees Louis press his face into his pillow, practically drooling for it, and he knows Louis is ready.

While Harry would normally start gently and ease into it, giving the omega time to adjust to how big his cock is, he knows that isn’t what Louis wants or needs right now. He needs Harry to just give it to him the way his body is demanding, the way Harry’s body is demanding, and that’s what Harry plans to do.

He pushes all the way in with one hard thrust, and his aim is good enough that he brushes against Louis’ prostate almost immediately. In response, Louis lets out the loudest moan Harry’s ever heard from him and comes for the first time of the night, shooting onto the sheets even without a knot to fill him up.

The moan is a sound of pleasure, one that sounds completely overwhelmed, and Harry can’t help but preen at that. He’s Louis’ alpha and he’s giving him exactly what he needs exactly when he needs it, and this is the reason Harry’s here tonight. He’s here to make his omega feel wanted and full, and to get him off as many times as he needs.

This is just the beginning.

Now that Louis has come once, it takes some of the edge of, but Harry knows he needs a knot before he has any real sense of release, and Harry is determined to get him there sooner rather than later.

Now that Harry’s cock is inside Louis, he uses both hands to grasp Louis’ hips and thrusts into him in earnest, fucking him harder and more precisely than he’s ever fucked anyone. The only sounds coming from Louis at this point are huffed breaths, and Harry can see that his eyes are closed, his face lit up with an expression of pure bliss.

It doesn’t take long for Harry to feel his knot start to expand for real, but he doesn’t want to let that happen when he’s fucking Louis doggystyle like this. Harry plans to bond his omega when he knots him, so before his knot gets big enough that he won’t be able to move, Harry pulls out.

Louis lets out a devastated whine, but Harry barely gives him enough time to realize what’s happened before he’s shifting Louis onto his side, spooning him from behind, and pushing right back in. Harry’s arms are wrapped around Louis’ torso and every bit of them is touching from their chests down to their thighs, and though Harry can’t thrust in as deeply from this angle, they feel so much closer in every way that it doesn’t make a difference.

Harry kisses the side of Louis’ neck right at his bonding spot and starts thrusting into him shallowly, his knot having expanded enough that he couldn’t pull out all the way if he tried.

“I love you, omega,” Harry says, sucking gently at Louis’ neck and tasting the sweat there.

“Love you, alpha,” Louis says breathlessly before turning his face toward Harry slightly. Harry can tell he’s not all there, too overwhelmed by the heat and the need to get off, but he opens his blue eyes to meet Harry’s.

That’s more than enough to bring Harry over the edge.

He thrusts in one final time and lets his knot expand, his balls emptying everything he has into Louis. Just as Louis lets out another moan, Harry uses one hand to jerk Louis off while he leans in to bite Louis’ bonding spot, and that’s it.

Harry tastes Louis’ blood, which is not a flavor he would generally recommend, but he barely notices it in the face of the overwhelming rush that pours into his heart and soul when he connects himself to his omega in this way. He can feel everything Louis feels and he knows Louis can feel everything he feels, and it’s something that Harry couldn’t begin to describe even if he wanted to.

He’s overtaken by it—not only the expanding emotion and understanding that comes from being permanently connected with Louis, but everything: the taste, the scent, the soft and delicate body that Harry is wrapped around, the feeling of Louis’ walls tightening around his knot as Louis comes again.

Harry knows Louis is probably growing increasingly sensitive now that he has a knot stuffed up his arse and he’s come twice, so he lets go of Louis’ cock, instead trailing his fingers across the come on Louis’ tummy in a way that makes him twitch. Louis’ eyes are closed, but it looks like he’s taking everything in, so Harry doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just rests his head on Louis’ shoulder, still spooning him as closely as he can while they’re still locked together.

It doesn’t take long for Harry to feel his eyes drift closed, and once he feels Louis fall asleep, Harry doesn’t bother stopping himself. He knows he’ll be awake as soon as his knot deflates because he’ll have to care for his omega and make sure he’s clean and warm and content, but for now, Harry allows himself to drift into much-needed sleep.

\--

Harry expects to wake up disoriented about an hour later, but instead, consciousness comes to him with an immediate sense of security in where he is, who he’s attached to, and what he’s just done.

He and his omega are bonded, mates for life. That’s not something Harry will ever forget.

Louis appears to still be asleep, so Harry tries to pull out of him gently enough that he won’t stir. It doesn’t work, of course, as Louis’ heat is still simmering near the surface and will require further attention within the next few hours. Heats generally last for about two days with an alpha’s help, and though there are respites from the burning immediately after accepting a knot, it’s not over until it’s really over.

“Mmm,” Louis says out of slight discomfort when he’s empty again, and Harry immediately leans in to kiss his bonding mark. The move makes Louis shiver, and Harry can’t help the smirk that comes over his face at all.

“Don’t be so smug,” Louis scolds. His eyes are still closed, but he knows Harry too well.

“How can I not be smug?” Harry says, pulling Louis until he shifts over so they can face each other.

Louis opens one eye.

“I’ve got my omega in my bed,” Harry says, shrugging. “I’m the smuggest bastard in the world.”

“My bed,” Louis corrects, and he leans in to give Harry a chaste kiss on the mouth, too exhausted for more.

“Our bed now, baby,” Harry says, and his smirk widens until his dimples fully surface.

“You’re going to be insufferable,” Louis says, but he’s smiling too. “We’ve been bonded for less than an hour and I can already tell you’re going to be insufferable. The most annoying alpha around.”

Harry laughs and flips over onto his back, pulling Louis in to lay on his chest.

“You knew that about me before we bonded,” Harry says before reaching over the bedside table to yank the chain on the light and cover them in darkness. Louis bites him on the arm, just a little nip, and Harry takes that as the acknowledgement of the truth that it is. He smiles to himself, unable to help it. He’s never felt happier.

Harry knows they should both try to get some more rest before another wave of Louis’ heat kicks in, so he takes a quick second to find his phone in his pants pocket and fire off a text to Jeff explaining that he’ll be MIA for a few days. By the time he powers off his phone and tosses it somewhere on the floor, Louis’ breathing has evened out somewhat and he seems like he’s drifted back to sleep, or at least that he’s close to it. Harry tightens his arm around him.

“Why are you here?” Louis mumbles, and Harry tenses suddenly, a flash of fear flitting through his gut. In the light of the moon from outside the window, Harry can see that Louis’ eyes immediately shoot open despite the exhaustion written all over his face, and Harry knows he’s responding to Harry’s reaction. “No, no, alpha,” Louis reassures him, snuggling in closer to Harry. “I just meant…how did you know to come here?”

Harry sighs with relief and immediately feels silly because of his automatic reaction to Louis’ question, but Louis presses a kiss to his pec and Harry silences the self-criticisms so he can explain himself.

“I just felt it,” Harry says simply, hugging Louis even closer to himself. “I just felt like you needed me, so I came.”

Louis looks up at Harry and smiles, his small pointy teeth shining. He looks tired and messy and well-fucked, but he’s still the most beautiful sight Harry’s ever laid eyes on.

“I did need you,” Louis says. “I always do.”

Harry gets the best sleep he’s ever had that night.

\--

On the night of Harry’s sophomore album release party, his label rents out a club in London. Everyone that matters to Harry is in attendance, and just a few people that don’t. His family, his closest friends (including Niall, Liam, and Zayn, who Harry has only grown closer to in recent months thanks to Louis dragging him out to do “normal people things” instead of locking himself in the studio for hours on end), his team (including Jeff, who looks relieved enough that they made it to the album release that Harry considers feeling offended), his band, and all of his co-writers and producers that helped make the album possible (Kid, of course, couldn’t make it, and by that, Harry means that he wasn’t invited).

And then of course there’s Harry’s omega.

Louis is wearing black jeans and a white knit sweater, and he looks like the sexiest person in the room. There have been other omegas slicking up every time Harry glances their way all night, and Harry wouldn’t even notice if it weren’t for Louis stomping his foot and letting out a string of curses every time he notices.

It makes Harry laugh and kiss him every time.

Harry has a fruit cocktail in one hand and his omega’s hand in the other when the music dies down for a few minutes and Jeff grabs a mic. Harry always claims to hate this part of the night—the part when people sing his praises—but the truth is that he loves it. Louis’ eye roll as Harry suppresses a smirk says he knows as much.

“Uh,” Jeff says, clearing his throat awkwardly into the mic. It’s enough to make most of his audience wince. “I’m not really much for public speaking, as you can probably tell, but I just wanted to say a few words.”

Louis squeezes Harry’s hand, and Harry leans down to kiss his cheek.

“I’ve got to be honest and tell you all that about eight months ago, I thought there was no way in hell this album was ever going to be finished,” Jeff says, laughing breathlessly. “But Harry turned it around and ended up making something that I think we can all agree is much better than his debut—”

“Heyyyyyy,” Harry interrupts, and the crowd laughs.

Jeff grins and his confidence grows.

“He ended up creating a masterpiece, one that I always knew he was capable of. So I just want to congratulate Harry on the release of Fine Line, and I want to congratulate myself for putting up with that knothead for over three years now,” he finishes to uproarious laughter and applause from Harry’s friends and family especially.

Even Louis laughs at that, though he still harbors a bit of a grudge toward Jeff from their first meeting, even all these months later. Harry looks down at his omega proudly, fully aware that the album Jeff is praising would never have been made if not for Louis. Harry may have written the music and sang the songs, but if he were still in the mental place he had been all those months back, sleepless and lonely and unhappy, he knows he never would have gotten here. And more importantly, without Louis, Harry wouldn't have had all the inspiration he needed.

He should say as much, he decides.

Harry leans down to kiss Louis one more time, nibbling his lip just enough that he smells Louis’ quick rush of slick. Harry grins at that, a promise for what’s to come later, and then walks over to where Jeff has been standing and snatches the microphone out of his hand.

Harry could just stand there like Jeff, but that’s beta behavior, not alpha behavior. Instead, Harry climbs his way up onto the bar with less grace than he’d like to admit, waving to get the attention of the party-goers who have already turned their attention back to their drinks and conversations.

“So,” Harry begins. “There’s a lot I could say right now, but I hadn’t planned to make a speech and don’t want to put my foot in my mouth, so I promise I’ll keep it brief.”

“With how slowly you talk, that seems unlikely,” someone shouts, and Harry immediately recognizes the voice as Mitch’s. When Harry’s eyes scan the crowd, he sees that Mitch is hiding behind Sarah like a coward. Harry glares in his direction and continues talking.

“Anyway, you all know I hate to admit when Jeff’s right,” Harry smiles. “But what he said is true. Eight months ago, I wasn’t sure if this album was going to happen either. I thought I was living my best life, doing shows in London every week, getting to see my fans on weekends and write in my own studio on weekdays…but I was running in place.”

Harry’s eyes find Louis’ in the crowd, and his omega is looking at him proudly.

“I was too alpha to admit that I was struggling. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t write, I couldn’t figure out what the fuck was wrong with me—sorry for the bad language, mum,” Harry laughs, knowing his mum is somewhere out in the crowd glaring at him because she didn’t raise her alpha son to speak that way. “And I wish I could say that I figured it out on my own and made an amazing record, but I didn’t do it on my own.”

Harry looks down and thinks about where he was then, and where he is now. He’s come a long way.

“I was afraid to admit that I needed help too. We all do sometimes. And thankfully, I had people—including my pain in the arse manager, but more importantly, my boyfriend, my muse, my omega, and the love of my life, Louis—who helped me along the way. So this album wouldn’t be what it is without them, and not to get preachy, but if there are any alphas in this room that are struggling, I promise your knot doesn’t fall off when you admit that you’re human too.”

Harry grins, feeding off the groans from many of the people in the room.

“Thanks, everyone,” Harry says, giving a wave before jumping off the bar. He leaves the mic there and gives Jeff a quick hug before making his way through the crowd to find his omega, who’s run off from where he was standing before.

He eventually finds Louis chatting with Gemma, and Harry sidles up behind him and wraps his arms around Louis from behind, letting his hands rest on Louis’ tummy. It’s one of Harry’s favorite spots, and that’s saying something, because pretty much every spot on Louis Tomlinson is Harry’s favorite spot.

“You two are nauseating,” Gemma says, scrunching her nose. Harry remembers when he used to say the same thing about couples, and he can’t help but smile at the fact that he’s one of them now.

“Love you too, Gems,” Harry says, leaning in to kiss Louis’ bonding mark.

When Gemma has turned around and wandered away, hoping to find her own alpha and be nauseating herself, Louis turns around in Harry’s arms to face him.

“Good speech, alpha,” Louis says, kissing him. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, baby,” Harry says, reaching his hands into the back pockets of Louis’ jeans and squeezing. Maybe that’s a little more than he should be doing in public, all things considered, but it’s dark enough in here that nobody will notice. Probably. And even if they do, who can blame Harry? Anyone would act the same if their omega looked like Louis.

“So,” Louis says, ignoring Harry’s clear intentions of riling him up. “I was thinking we could head out soon, if you’re okay with that.”

Harry glances around at the party, which has already begun to wind down around him.

“Definitely okay with that. You have plans in mind?” Harry asks, wiggling his eyebrows and squeezing Louis’ bum again.

“I was thinking I’d let you have your way with me,” Louis says as he wraps his arms around Harry’s neck.

Harry kisses Louis deeply, slipping him a little bit of tongue and helping slick him up enough that Harry’s nostrils flare and he pulls Louis into him even more possessively, a silent warning to any alpha that might be paying attention.

Louis breaks the kiss, breathless.

“And then I was thinking we could sleep through until morning,” he finishes, smiling softly.

“Oh, Lou, I do love when you talk dirty to me,” Harry says, cheesy grin on his face.

Louis just laughs and wiggles out of Harry’s grip, but he doesn’t go far before grabbing Harry’s larger hand in his, fitting them together perfectly. Just like always. Harry squeezes his hand and leans in to give one more kiss to his bond spot, just to make Louis shiver, before turning and leading Louis out of the bar.

Harry and his omega have plans at home tonight, and there’s nowhere else he'd rather be.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, please comment and give kudos to let me know.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr [here](http://alltheselights.tumblr.com) and on Twitter [here](http://www.twitter.com/alltheselightts). You can find the photoset for this fic [here.](https://alltheselights.tumblr.com/post/612594894174879744/title-the-space-between-rating-explicit-word)
> 
>  **Note:** I'm not authorizing translations at this time. Also, please do not repost this fic on any other site.


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